


The Labyrinth of London: The Empty Crystal

by FarGreenCountrySwiftSunrise



Series: The Labyrinth of London [22]
Category: Labyrinth (1986), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Doctor Who References, Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Gen, Original Character(s), Requited Love, Romance, The Empty Hearse Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FarGreenCountrySwiftSunrise/pseuds/FarGreenCountrySwiftSunrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jareth has dismantled Moriarty’s network and comes home to London because of a terrorist threat. How warm of a welcome will he received after being dead for two years? J/S.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Thin White Sleuth](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/35960) by Pika-la-Cynique. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Almighty Disclaimer   
> Oh Moffat and Gatiss and Thompson,   
> Henson and Doyle,   
> To you belongs all the characters   
> And none so for me!
> 
> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/64080.html).

Outside of the courthouse, Anderson stood with Lestrade next to a coffee stand.

“I have a new theory,” Anderson said.

“Oh God, Anderson, please,” Lestrade said.

“No, listen. You said you would always listen,” Anderson said.

Lestrade groaned. “Fine. What is it this time?”

“You see, when Moriarty shot himself, some of Jareth’s conspirators dressed Jim as Jareth with a mask and a wig. Jareth jumped off the building using a bungee cord and leaped into a window where Molly Hooper was waiting to assist him. Derren Brown came by and hypnotized Sarah. Then Jareth…”

“Hold up! This is the most ridiculous yet!”

“You said that about the TARDIS!”

“With what I’ve seen, the TARDIS could be logical.”

“No-no-no-no! That one was just a fun theory. This is how he did it! It’s obvious!” Anderson said.

“Derren Brown? Let it go. Jareth is dead,” Greg said.

“Is he?”

“There was a body. It was definitely him. Molly Hooper laid him out.”

“No, she’s lying. It was Jim Moriarty’s body with a mask on!”

“A mask?”

Anderson nodded with enthusiasm.

“A bungee rope, a mask, Derren Brown. Two years, and the theories keep getting more stupid. How many more have you got for me today?” Greg said.

“Well, you know the paving slabs in that whole area – even the exact ones that he landed on – you know they were all...”

Lestrade interrupted. “Guilt. That’s all this is. You pushed us all into thinking that Jareth was a fraud: you and Donovan.”

Anderson looked down.

“You did this, and it killed him, and he’s staying dead. Do you honestly believe that if you have enough stupid theories, it’s going to change what really happened?” Lestrade took his coffee and began to walk away.

“I believe in Jareth,” Anderson said.

Greg turned around. “Yeah, well that won’t bring him back.”

After Anderson grabbed his coffee, the two men watched the reporters as it was announced that James Moriarty created Richard Brook and that Jareth King was cleared of all suspicions.

Greg turned to Anderson and raised his cup. “Well then. To absent friends. Jareth.”

“Jareth,” Anderson said.

They tapped their cups together.

Lestrade added, “And may God rest his soul.”

&%&%&%

“Oh, John Hamish Watson, of course I’ll marry you,” Sarah said, giving a half swoon.

“I think I will go and vomit now,” Sherlock said.

“So, does that mean you think Mary will like the ring?” John said as he fiddled with the ring the jeweler had taken out of the case. It had three round diamonds as its center piece.

Sarah laughed. “Yes, John. She’ll say yes even if you gave her a plastic ring you won from a claw machine. This ring will make her a very happy woman and in turn, you, a very happy man.”

“I don’t see why I have to be here,” Sherlock grumbled.

“Because you can tell if they’re conflict diamonds or not,” John said.

“They’re not,” Sherlock said before throwing himself into a chair, “This is the stupidest shopping trip I have ever been on. Getting a woman a diamond ring is like a dog marking his territory.”

“Sherlock!” John said.

Sarah crouched down next to Sherlock. “I’ll get you some hot chocolate after this if you behave, alright Sherlock?”

Sherlock huffed in approval.

“What is your fiancée’s ring size?” the jeweler asked John.

“I have the same size. I don’t remember my exact size, though,” Sarah said.

The jeweler brought out her test rings and let Sarah try a few. “You’re in luck,” the jeweler said, “This ring is the same size. If you buy now or start a payment plan, you can walk out with it today.”

“That’s fantastic,” John said.

“Can I try it on?” Sarah asked.

“Of course, ma’am,” the jeweler said.

Sarah slipped on the ring and held it up to the light. “Mary is going to need to exercise to wear this. It’s heavy.” She smiled. “You, Doctor Watson, are a man of taste.”

After sorting out the money at the jeweler’s, the three went out to a cafe. As Sarah picked up their order, John said to Sherlock, “She seems to be doing alright.”

“She moved past bitterness two months after the Fall,” Sherlock said, “She has been on a steady recovery since then.”

“Is she happy? I know I haven’t been around 221B as often, but she seems cheerful whenever I see her,” John said.

Sherlock shrugged. “You know that this is not my area, but she does seem to have moved on.”

“I am sure Jareth is at peace with that,” John said.

“Oh, please,” Sherlock said, “Even if there was an afterlife, Jareth would certainly not be at peace unless he was causing some sort of chaos.”

&%&%&%

Far away in a cold, dark room in a half-forgotten bunker in Serbia, there was a man naked from the waist up. His arms were chained to opposite walls of the small room, forcing him to stay upright. He was slumped forward as far as he could, exhausted from his beatings. His torturer was shouting at him in Serbian. The boss sat with his feet up on a small table while wrapped against the cold. 

“You broke in here for a reason,” the torturer said in Serbian as he picked up a metal pipe, “Just tell us why and you can sleep. Remember sleep?”

As the torturer was about to strike the man, the prisoner whispered something quietly.

“What?” the torturer said. He pulled the blond man’s head back by his long hair to hear better.

The boss in the corner said, “Well? What did he say?”

The torturer let go of the prisoner’s hair and looked down in confusion. “He said that I used to work in the navy, where I had an unhappy love affair. That the electricity isn’t working in my bathroom… that my wife is sleeping with our next door neighbor!”

The torturer grabbed the man’s hair again and asked a question. The prisoner briefly replied.

“The coffin maker! And… if I go home now, I’ll catch them at it! I knew it! I knew there was something going on!” The torturer stormed out of the room.

The prisoner slumped down as the boss began to stand.

“So, my friend. Now it’s just you and me,” the boss said, “You have no idea the trouble it took to find you.”

The boss walked across the room to the prisoner. He pulled on the prisoner’s hair before whispering in the man’s ear in English, “Now listen to me. There’s an underground terrorist network active in London and a massive attack is imminent. Sorry, but the holiday is over. Back to Baker Street, Jareth King.”

The goblin grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day! Welcome back to The Labyrinth of London! I have truly missed writing this series.


	2. Chapter I: Holmes is Where the Heart is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/64080.html).

In Mycroft’s underground office, Jareth was receiving a shave from a barber while lying back in an old fashion barber chair. He read a newspaper with the headline “SKELETON MYSTERY”. Mycroft was behind his desk.

“You have been busy, haven’t you?” Mycroft said, “Quite the busy little bee.”

Jareth tossed aside the paper. “Moriarty’s network took me two years to dismantle,” Jareth said, “All of it had to be done without anyone knowing it was me.”

“And you’re confident you have?” Mycroft said.

“The Serbian side was the last piece of the puzzle.”

“Yes. You got yourself in deep there...” Mycroft glances at the report, “…with Baron Maupertuis. Quite a scheme.”

“Colossal.”

“Anyway, you’re safe now.”

Jareth gave an “Hmm” in response.

“A small ‘thank you’ wouldn’t go amiss, Jareth.”

“What for?”

“For wading in.”

Jareth raised his hand for the barber to stop. The barber stepped back enough for Jareth to sit up.

“In case you’d forgotten, fieldwork is not my natural milieu,” Mycroft said.

Jareth grunted in pain as he sat up to glare at Mycroft. “‘Wading in’? You sat there and watched me being beaten to a pulp.”

“I got you out,” Mycroft said as he frowned. 

“No,” Jareth snarled, “I got me out. Why did you not intervene sooner?”

“Well, I couldn’t risk giving myself away, could I? It would have ruined everything.”

“You were enjoying it.”

“Nonsense.”

“Definitely enjoying it.”

Mycroft leaned forward in his chair. “Do you have any idea what it was like, Jareth, going ‘under cover’, smuggling my way into their ranks like that? The noise; the people? Your sister threatening to remove herself from the Fae war just to make my life Hell if you did not make it out safely?”

“Jo is not that terrifying. I do know about undercover work. Trust me; it is much harder when you cannot lie outright.” Jareth sank back into the chair. The barber went back to work. “I didn’t know you spoke Serbian.”

“I didn’t, but the language has a Slavic root, frequent Turkish and German loan words.” Mycroft shrugged. “Took me a couple of hours.”

“You’re slipping,” Jareth said.

“Aging may not happen to you, but it certainly happens to humans.”

The door near Jareth opened. Anthea entered holding up a dark suit and white shirt on a hanger to show to Jareth.

&%&%&%

Sometime later, Jareth was putting on the final adjustments of his suit sans jacket while standing before a large mirror on the wall. Mycroft and Anthea stood nearby.

“I need you to give this matter your full attention, Jareth Is that quite clear?” Mycroft said.

“What do you think of this shirt?” Jareth said.

“Jareth!”

“I will find your underground terror cell, Mycroft. Just put me back in London. I need to get to know the place again, breathe it in – feel every quiver of its beating heart.”

Anthea said, “One of our men died getting this information. All the chatter, all the traffic, concurs there’s going to be a terror strike on London – a big one.”

“And what about Sarah Williams?” Jareth said as he put on his jacket.

“Sarah?” Mycroft said.

“Yes. She is in London right now? Have you seen her recently?”

“Oh, yes – we meet up every Friday for fish and chips,” Mycroft said with sarcasm while Anthea handed Jareth a folder. “I’ve kept a weather eye on her, of course. I am sure you know that she is alright from your little ‘run ins’ with her.”

Jareth flipped through the file.

“You haven’t been in touch at all to prepare her?” Mycroft said.

“You know I couldn’t,” Jareth said. He smiled at one of the photographs where Sarah was pulling at her red and white striped hat. “I think I’ll surprise Sarah. She will be delighted!”

“You think so?” Mycroft said.

“I’ll pop into Baker Street. Who knows – jump out of a cake. Well, maybe not. That may traumatize Mrs. Hudson, what with one traditionally happens when jumping out of a cake.” Jareth smirked at Mycroft. “Where will she be tonight?”

“Baker Street until about eight when she takes her brother’s band to their appointment. You should be able to get to 221B to meet her if you leave now,” Mycroft said.

“Toby is here? Shouldn’t he be in school?” Jareth said.

“He apparently decided to graduate early with honors so he could focus on his music career. His friends are all older but did the same so they are having a month long stay in London that ends just before the American Thanksgiving.”

“Excellent. He’ll be happy to see me too,” Jareth said.

“You know, it is just possible that you won’t be welcome,” Mycroft said.

“Maybe after the initial shock, but then I shall be quite well received.”

“Are you sure you want to do this now? That it will not distract you from a terrorist attack that could kill hundreds of people?”

“Mycroft, if I do not have Sarah, I will not help you. Even if you forced me, my work would be less than it should be. You know that.”

Mycroft sighed in exasperation.

Anthea gave Jareth his coat. “Welcome back, Mr. King.”

&%&%&%

At 221 Baker Street, the door knocker was still askew and the locks had not been changed. Jareth entered with stealth as he did not want to give Mrs. Hudson a stroke. It would be better if Sarah could prepare her. He avoided the step that creaked and made it to the landing of 221B without anyone noticing. Sherlock was facing away from the open door while sitting at the dining table. As good as Jareth was, he knew that he could not get past Sherlock once he entered 221B proper. 

The goblin stepped into his old home.

“Hello, Sherlock,” Jareth said, “I have a new puzzle for you to help me with if you are willing.”

Though Jareth could not see his face, Jareth knew that Sherlock Holmes was grinning. “Of course I will. I was getting a bit bored. I was wondering when something would come up.”

Sherlock stood up and turned around to face Jareth with a face of childlike joy. “So, was death boring?”

“Most definitely,” Jareth said. He stepped further into the flat and held out his hand to Sherlock.

Holmes shook his hand. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“I’m glad you’re taking it well.”

“Why wouldn’t I? My life will be infinitely less boring now. Sarah refuses to do cases. John has been rather dull since Mary, though I quite like her and she lets us go on adventures,” Sherlock said.

“You remembered a girlfriend’s name?” Jareth said, slightly surprised.

“She likes me; John is going to marry her. Most importantly, she loves John more than anything. Very few people really would do anything for John. He’s the one who usually does everything. As I said, I like her.”

Jareth gave a half smile. “Good for John. I’m sure he’s very happy that they chose each other.”

“Before you ask, Sarah is not here. She left an hour ago. Her brother’s band had their slot moved up,” Sherlock said.

Jareth realized that he had been looking around the flat and not at Sherlock. “That obvious?”

“Even idiots would realize it. Who else have you told?” Sherlock asked.

“No one. Sarah needed to see me first,” Jareth said, “You were next.”

“I understand. I’m surprised Mycroft hasn’t… damn it. He was in on it,” Sherlock said as he stomped his foot. “I should have known that idiot wouldn’t throw away a resource like you. Who else? It was Molly, wasn’t it? She examined the body. I thought she was upset because you had died, but I should have realized she was showing her tell.”

The two talked for a few minutes about how the former Goblin King survived and what had happened over the past two years. Jareth enlisted Sherlock’s help with the terrorist attack.

“I’ll reach out to my homeless network to get trackers on those people as well as anyone else I can think of,” Sherlock said, “You should go before Mrs. Hudson gets back from her ‘herbal soothers’ appointment. Sarah is at the ‘Green Light’ club. It shouldn’t take you long to get there.”

“Thank you, Sherlock,” Jareth said.

“It’s good to have you back,” Sherlock said, “And you gave me a case so you are forgiven on all accounts.”

Two thoughts ran through Jareth’s mind as he left 221B. 

_One down. Six to go._

_Sarah._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Before I am asked, I have two reasons why Sherlock reacted the way he did.
> 
> 1\. Because in “The Empty Hearse”, Sherlock really did not seem to understand why people would be upset when someone they thought was dead actually was alive, even if it was for a good reason.
> 
> 2\. Because Jareth is going to be hit by a lot of people and Sherlock would actually be capable of killing Jareth if he was as angry as everyone else was in “The Empty Hearse”.


	3. Chapter II: Counting Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/64080.html).

“I think I’m going to die from embarrassment,” Toby said as they parked behind the club.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t get changed from dressing up for work,” Sarah said as she brushed away a curl, “How could I resist an 80’s party for the kids? I figured you would rather get the money and the fame instead of a normal looking sister.”

“I’m talking about the car!” Toby said.

Sarah patted the steering wheel. “Sherlock’s friend thought he should decorate Buffy. It was better than having a rust bucket.”

“It’s the Mystery Machine!” Toby said.

“Trust me, it could be worse,” Sarah said. She turned to face the other members of Crowley and the Boys. “Remember the rules?”

“Don’t drink, snort, smoke, shoot up, or chew; don’t go with those who do,” the band said in unison.

“Let’s rock!” Sarah said.

The band groaned as Sarah said that same phrase before every event.

&%&%&%

Sarah was standing outside the club while Toby was inside packing up his band. Crowley and the Boys did not like her trying to help with their things. She looked at a picture from Mary that showed her and John beaming while Mary showed off her new ring.

As Sarah texted her congratulations, she heard a familiar voice. “Hello, precious,” Jareth said.

_I really thought I was awake._

Sarah looked up from her phone and tilted her head to the side. Jareth did not look exactly like she dreamed he did. His hair was long again. He was thinner than she had ever seen him; his clothes hung loosely enough that Sarah was concerned about his overall health. 

But what was truly disconcerting was that Sarah was physically uncomfortable. Her feet were sore from walking and her earrings were far too heavy to be worn for long periods of time.

_Not dreaming. Just crazy._

“Hey. How are you?”

The hallucination was slightly taken aback. “Not dead.”

Sarah nodded. “I thought this would happen sooner.”

“What would?” Jareth asked. He stopped in front of her.

“Losing it. I was expecting to crack after you did.” A hysterical laugh burst from Sarah as she vividly remembered the last time she had really seen Jareth.

“Sarah, it’s me,” Jareth said.

She smiled at the apparition. “Of course it is. Hallucinations want to stay alive. Fortunately, you’re a good looking figment of my imagination. Even your hair is long, which was my favorite on you. I may keep you for a bit. You’ll keep me company in the looney bin.”

“Precious…”

Something fell to the ground as Toby cursed. Sarah turned and saw Toby gaping at them with his guitar case lying on the ground.

_He would never treat his guitar like that._

“Jareth! WHAT THE HELL!?!” Toby said.

Sarah looked back at the thing. “You can see him?”

“WHAT THE HELL!?!” Toby repeated.

Sarah punched its left cheek. It was corporeal and nearly staggered back into the street from the unexpected hit. Sarah pulled out an iron knife from her goblin boots and held the dagger to its throat.

“I don’t know who you are or what you want, but choosing to take Jareth’s form was a BIG mistake! I will slit you open and see how you tick. Who are you working for?” Sarah said. 

“Sarah, it’s me,” it said, holding up both its hands.

“Don’t lie to me!” Sarah said.

“Precious…”

“DON’T YOU DARE CALL ME THAT!” Sarah pressed her knife closer to the shape shifter’s throat.

The creature looked at her with desperation. “Sarah, on our first case, you asked me to show you what I did for the police. You gave me permission to look at one of your smaller dreams. You have a dream of your first dog, Merlin, playing with your family’s current dog, Frederick. You never told anyone because you were embarrassed that people would think that you were a ‘crazy dog lady’ as you told me later.”

_But…_

The iron knife dropped to the ground. Sarah covered her face and stepped back to lean against the wall. “This isn’t real. You’re dead. I felt your pulse.”

Jareth walked towards Sarah and gently tugged at her wrists. She let him pull her hands away from her face. Jareth placed a soft kiss on both her hands applying extra attention to her bruising right hand. 

_You’re not real._

“It is me. You are not dreaming. You are not insane. I am alive. I am touching you. I’m bleeding out; thank you very much for that. I thought you liked my face.”

_You’re dead. I saw you. I touched you._

Sarah started falling to the ground before she realized that her legs were no longer working. Jareth helped her down and sat with her on the sidewalk. He gently fixed her hair. 

_Why am I crying? This isn’t real. Jareth can’t lie._

“Precious, please believe in me,” Jareth said.

“I did believe you. You told me you were going to kill yourself. I saw you do it!” 

“I never said that. I said ‘good bye’. I had to be vague. I couldn’t lie to you but…”

“You faked your death!” Toby shouted.

“I will address your concerns in a moment, Toby. Right now, I am taking care of your sister. Please be silent,” Jareth said with irritation.

Something in Sarah realized that _this_ was Jareth.

Sarah cupped Jareth’s face. “Why. Just tell me why. I grieved for you. Two years. Two damn years!”

Jareth flinched. “I know. I know. They were going to kill you, Toby, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Sherlock, and John. If you didn’t believe I died, who would?”

Sarah’s tears came harder. “Christiana was right?”

Jareth pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping away Sarah’s tears. “What did my kinsman say?”

“That you died to save us.”

“Then yes, she was right. Besides, I promised you.”

“Promised… promised me what?”

“That I would be there for you as the world falls down. I had to go and make sure the world didn’t fall so I could be with you for even longer.”

Sarah wrapped herself around Jareth and slapped his back. “You are a jerk. You know that, right?”

Jareth kept her close and kissed the top of her head. “The worst.”

“You’re not dead.”

“Not even mostly dead.”

Sarah pulled back for a moment and smiled. “My Bright Star, hiding behind some clouds when I thought all the stars had gone out.”

“You know I move the stars for no one, not even for you. I will never truly leave you.”

Jareth was pulled down to Sarah for a long kiss.

“Yours,” Sarah said, placing Jareth’s hand over her heart.

Jareth mimicked her motion. “Yours.” 

They rested their heads against each other. _Safe and sound. We’ll be safe and sound now._

“It’s cold, Sarah. Let’s get you someplace warm,” Jareth said, pulling Sarah to her feet.

Sarah nodded. She briefly let go of Jareth to adjust her dress so that the world would not see up her skirt.

“So, you faked your death?” Toby said.

“Yes,” Jareth said.

“And Sarah had to think you were dead?” Toby asked.

Jareth nodded before Toby tackled him and began to punch Jareth. “I HAD TO WATCH MY SISTER SCREAM IN PAIN BECAUSE OF YOU, ASSHOLE!”

Sarah pulled Toby off. “Toby! You can’t just go and kill him!”

“He nearly killed you!” Toby shouted.

“You can’t kill him!” Sarah said.

“HE’S AN ASSHOLE!” Toby said.

Sarah rubbed her face. “I know. I need more information and I am not going to get it if he’s dead.”

“I would rather there not be an audience,” Jareth said as he stood behind Sarah.

She looked up and saw the rest of the band looking on in amazement. “I have to get the boys home but I don’t think I can drive and…”

“Call Sherlock. He will take care of it,” Jareth said.

“Yeah he can… Jareth. Was Sherlock in on this?” Sarah asked.

Jareth shook his head. “I found him at 221B where I thought I would find you.” He rubbed Sarah’s arms. “Precious, you’re freezing.”

&%&%&%

The three of them went into a late night café. Sarah was trying to understand that Jareth was sitting next to her. Jareth was trying to make her and Toby drink a cup of tea. Toby was trying to figure out a way to kill Jareth. All three were failing in their attempts.

“Drink a little. I don’t want you to go into shock,” Jareth said.

“I’m not going into shock, but I need to know what happened,” Sarah said.

Jareth nodded and never broke eye contact with her. “I told James to come to the roof. I needed to confront him and I also needed it to be on my terms. I calculated that there were thirteen possibilities once I’d invited Moriarty onto the roof. I wanted to avoid dying if at all possible. The first scenario involved hurling myself into a parked hospital van filled with washing bags. Impossible. The angle was too steep. Secondly, a system of Japanese wrestling...”

Toby interrupted. “You know, for a genius you can be really stupid.”

Jareth looked at Toby. “What?”

“We don’t care how you faked it, Jareth. We all know what a clever asshole you are. I want to know why,” Toby said.

Jareth seemed honestly confused by the necessity of the question. “Why? Because Moriarty had to be stopped.”

Sarah stroked Jareth’s arm. “Not that either.”

“Oh. ‘Why’ as in... ah. Yes. That’s a little more difficult to explain,” Jareth said.

“I’ve got all night,” Sarah said in a tone that generally made Jareth keep on track.

Jareth rubbed the back of his neck. “Joanna actually came up with the plan and Mycroft…”

Sarah slapped Jareth’s right cheek. 

“Was that really necessary, precious?” Jareth said as he rubbed his reddening cheek.

“I am sorry for the slap as you have enough bodily damage from Toby,” Sarah said. 

Jareth smirked slightly. He leaned towards her and whispered, “Did you miss doing that, precious?”

“Stop distracting me!” Sarah said as she felt her cheeks redden, “I told off your sister! And she was just trying to protect you! I said truly awful things to her, Jareth.”

“Wait, I thought Good Neighbors can’t lie,” Toby said.

“Joanna has always been human which means she can lie. I did not get all my theatrical tendencies from Rumpelstiltskin,” Jareth said.

Sarah rested her head against the table. “I’m going to have to apologize to her. I said wretched stuff. Oh God, I’m going to have to apologize to Mr. Umbrella. I’m not going to go overthrow a country for him, am I?”

Jareth laughed and rubbed Sarah’s back. “I missed you, Sarah.”

Sarah sat up as a thought struck her. “Molly knew.”

Jareth nodded. “It’s always good to know the record keeper.”

Sarah turned slowly to Jareth as his words reminded her of someone else who was not really dead. “So, you didn’t ask for help from anyone besides Joanna, Mycroft, and Molly?”

Jareth did not respond.

Sarah said, “Who else did you ask Jareth?”

“It was only after I faked my death. I had no other choice at the time. I would not have asked for help from this person unless there was no other way. And before you hit me, I came to London shortly afterwards and had you punch me, so I do not deserve to be slapped for this.”

“How did you get me to… never mind that. The more important thing is that you went to her before telling me you were ALIVE?”

“I promise you, Sarah, upon every bit of magic I have and ever will use nothing happened.”

“I’m not worried about you sleeping with _her_. I’m worried that she hurt you.”

“Who is _she_?” Toby asked.

Sarah realized that she was not supposed to know that Irene Adler was alive. “It’s not important, Toby. She’s an ex-ally of Jareth’s and I really don’t like her.”

“I can’t believe you told all those people before Sarah,” Toby said.

Jareth suddenly became fascinated with the pepper and salt shakers on the table.

“But they were the only ones, right?” Toby said.

“Couple of others,” Jareth mumbled. 

Sarah groaned and smacked her head against the table.

Jareth tried to rub Sarah’s back again but she motioned for him not to touch her. 

“It was a very elaborate plan – it had to be. The next of the thirteen possibilities...”

“Who else, Jareth?” Toby said.

“Some of the homeless network, and that’s all,” Jareth said, “My family save Joanna thinks I’m dead. I was not hiding this for my own enjoyment.”

“Okay,” Toby said as he sat up straighter, “So just your sister, Mr. Umbrella, Molly Hooper, and a hundred tramps.”

“No!” Jareth said, “Twenty-five at most.”

Toby then threw himself across the table in attempt to throttle Jareth.

&%&%&%

After being thrown out of the cafe, the three went to a hole in the wall kebab restaurant. Sarah was helping Jareth clean up his cut lip while Toby glared at them.

“You should work on your straight left,” Jareth said when Sarah had finished cleaning the wound, “Good power. Not so good aim.”

Toby got up into Jareth’s face. “One word, Jareth. That is all we would have needed. One word to let us know that you were alive.”

“If Sarah did not believe I was dead, no one else would,” Jareth looked over to Sarah, “You would believe I was alive longer than anyone else, precious. If I was not dead, they would have killed you…” Jareth looked at Toby, “… and you, along with many others that I care about.”

Toby crossed his arms over his chest, “You could have told her a couple months after. You didn’t see her after you…”

“I didn’t think I could come back,” Jareth said, “And you, Toby, were across the Atlantic while I watched Sarah trying to save me after my fall and several times after. Step. Back. Now.”

Toby tried to grab Jareth to hit him again but Jareth was faster. In a few motions, Toby had his face pressed against the table behind Jareth with Toby’s arm twisted behind his back just before the point of pain. 

“I am tired of being hit, Tobias Henry Williams. You have made your point. Your sister has hit me. John and Lestrade will most likely hit me. If I survive them, Mrs. Hudson will surely incapacitate me. This will not fulfill your desire to punish me for hurting you and your family. I. Am. Sorry. Will you stop trying to cause me bodily harm now?”

Toby huffed but nodded. Jareth brought Toby back to standing. 

“We’ll be leaving now,” Jareth told the owner.

The three walked out into the cold evening air. Jareth flagged down a taxi but then waved it on before speaking. “Sarah, Toby may go back to 221 or stay with us. Which would you prefer?”

“I think Toby will want to be with his friends,” Sarah said.

Toby protested. “But Sarah, I’m not going to leave you with…”

“Go back, Toby. I will be fine. Jareth and I have things to discuss without you listening,” Sarah said.

Toby growled at Jareth, “I will make sure you pay for this.”

“Toby, did you ever think that Sarah will do a much better job at that than you will?” Jareth said as he flagged down another taxi.

&%&%&%

Sarah nestled herself against Jareth as they took a taxi to John and Mary’s flat. “I am sorry Toby attacked you.”

Jareth kissed the top of Sarah’s head. “You have nothing to apologize for… except for wearing my jacket better than I can.”

Sarah laughed as they pulled up to John and Mary’s flat. “I just texted that I needed to talk with them about something important. You should probably wait outside for a minute.”

Jareth nodded before Sarah got out of the taxi. Sarah ran up the steps to the flat. John opened the door. His normally neat hair a mess. 

“What’s the problem?” John asked.

Sarah was about to answer when she saw from the way John’s eyes widened that Jareth had gotten out of the taxi.

&%&%&%

Jareth was holding a tissue to his face as his nose was still bleeding from John head-butting him.

Sarah said, “I didn’t see it, but apparently Sherlock did cry over your death. Add that to John wanting to kill you again since he was told you had taken your own life, I guessed that he would be violent.”

“But he’s a doctor,” Jareth said.

“And a soldier. I told you to wait,” Sarah said with no remorse.

“You said to wait outside. I was outside of the taxi,” Jareth said.

“You are just a glutton for punishment.”

Jareth shrugged.

“You know, you really shouldn’t creep up on Lestrade. He does have the legal right to shoot you,” Sarah said.

Jareth seemed to consider it for a moment. “I’ll do my best.”

Sarah felt her phone buzz. She had a text from Mary. “I like him. I’ll make sure John comes around.”

&%&%&%

Lestrade met Sarah in an underground parking garage. “What do you need to tell me Sarah?”

“Well,” Sarah bit her lip, “If, say, someone you really cared about faked their death, even if they did it for a good reason, what would you do?”

“I would punch their teeth out,” Greg said.

“Be careful what you say. You may be forced to act upon your words,” Jareth said from the shadows.

Sarah looked heavenward in exasperation.

“Oh, you bastard,” Lestrade said, turning towards Jareth’s voice.

Jareth walked out of the darkness. “It’s time to come back. You’ve been letting things slide, Greg.”

Lestrade grimaced at Jareth.

“Well?” Jareth asked as he braced for a punch.

Lestrade lunged for Jareth and… gave him a bear hug. Jareth awkwardly patted Lestrade’s back. Sarah took a picture for future use.

&%&%&%

Molly Hooper walked into the women’s locker room in Bart’s. As she opened the door to her locker, Molly saw in the reflection of her small mirror that Sarah was standing behind her. Molly spun around in surprise.

“You scared me,” Molly said, “I thought you were off tonight.”

“I am,” Sarah said as she walked towards Molly.

“What’s wrong then?” Molly asked.

Sarah hugged Molly. “There’s nothing wrong and it’s all because of you.”

Molly was confused until she saw Jareth standing further back in the room. She sighed and hugged Sarah back. “I’m really sorry.”

“You kept him alive,” Sarah said.

“Hardly. I just provided a corpse. That’s what I’m good at,” Molly said.

“Death and life bringer should be your new title,” Sarah said as she pulled back from Molly.

“So, you’re staying this time?” Molly asked Jareth.

“To the sad news of London criminals, yes,” Jareth said.

&%&%&%

Sarah heard Mrs. Hudson washing her dishes in 221A. The radio was on the news saying something about an anti-terrorism bill that was about to pushed through legislation. Mrs. Hudson turned off the radio.

“Sarah, is that you?” Mrs. Hudson called out.

“I’ll be there in a moment Mrs. Hudson,” Sarah said before whispering, “Stay out here, Jareth.”

“I will. I would rather not give Mrs. Hudson a heart attack.”

Sarah smiled and kissed Jareth’s cheek. “Welcome home.”

Before Jareth could respond, Sarah went into 221A’s kitchen. Mrs. Hudson focused on the frying pan she was cleaning.

“Dearie, your brother is sulking worse than Sherlock. He said you met up with someone and you kicked Toby to the curb,” Mrs. Hudson said.

“He was not kicked to the curb. He had a free taxi ride and I made sure Sherlock took home the rest of the boys,” Sarah said.

“So, who is it? Maybe a cute man?” Mrs. Hudson winked at Sarah. “You really should get out more. I know you said you gave up on finding someone, but not all hope is lost. I mean,” Mrs. Hudson motioned to herself, “I am several decades older than you and I still have some rather handsome admirers.”

Sarah smiled. “I, however, am not nearly as elegant of a player as you, Mrs. Hudson. I did meet up with a man. I think he’s cute.”

“Oh, do tell,” Mrs. Hudson said as she drained the sink.

“He’s an ex who I have recently connected with again,” Sarah said.

“Oh. And is he cute?”

“Downright sexy. Blond and acts like it at times.”

Mrs. Hudson giggled. “They don’t need much brains to be useful. So, how did you meet up again?”

“He figured out where my brother’s band was playing. Well, Sherlock told him.”

“Sherlock likes him?”

“Apparently.”

“Sherlock doesn’t like anyone besides us two, Lestrade, John, Mary, and…” Mrs. Hudson turned to Sarah wide-eyed. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking,” Sarah said, “I would never joke about this.”

“And he’s…”

Sarah interrupted. “Yes.”

“And he’s in 221…”

“Waiting for you.”

Mrs. Hudson shook her head. “It could just be a…”

“I checked and he has already talked with Sherlock.”

Mrs. Hudson pushed pass Sarah. “I just don’t believe it.”

Sarah turned to follow Mrs. Hudson when the landlady screamed. Jareth looked desperately at Sarah as he was confused by Mrs. Hudson shock.

“I thought you prepared her,” Jareth said as Mrs. Hudson rushed over to him and pinched his cheeks.

“She didn’t believe me,” Sarah said.

&%&%&%

After confirming that Jareth was indeed alive, Mrs. Hudson went to take her “herbal soothers”. Sherlock was texting on his phone when Sarah and Jareth came up to 221B.

“I have some of my homeless network watching those people you told me of,” Sherlock said without looking up.

“People for what?” Sarah asked.

“Terrorist attack. Imminent. Mycroft does not have enough information to take preventative measures. I, however, have knowledge that I gained over the past two years that may be of use to this case,” Jareth said.

Sarah jerked away from Jareth. “So you came back only because Mycroft asked you to?”

“No! The only reason I was going to help him was if I was allowed to contact you,” Jareth said.

Sarah made a silent “oh”.

Jareth cupped Sarah’s face with his hands. “Precious, I would not have been able to talk to you unless I had destroyed Moriarty’s network. I thought it would take at least one lifetime, if not more to do. Fortunately, the Fae war has destroyed most of the Gremlin Kingdom’s connections leaving me to dismantle the network in the Above. James will never trouble us again.” Jareth kissed Sarah’s forehead. “He will never be able to hurt you ever again.

&%&%&%

Sarah took a quick shower to get the product out of her hair. She came back into the living room to find Jareth and Sherlock pinning a map of London to the wall of 221B above the couch.

“When was the last time you slept?” Sarah asked Jareth.

“Um… a few minutes on the flight back to London,” Jareth said distractedly.

“And before that?” Sarah said, though she was certain of the answer.

“…I’m not sure,” Jareth said.

Sarah grabbed Jareth’s hand and began dragging him back to her bedroom. “You need to sleep.”

“But I have a case,” Jareth moaned.

“I have a case too: you. I’m your healer and you look like you are going to fall asleep on your feet. Sherlock, I know you will ignore me, but try to get some rest,” Sarah said.

Sherlock “humphed” in response.

“Sarah, I really should stay focused on this case,” Jareth said as they entered her room.

“Tough,” Sarah said as she made up her bed, “I am not going to have you making stupid decisions because your brain can no longer function.”

When she turned around, Sarah saw that Jareth was moving slowly as he worked on taking off his jacket. “Jareth, what’s wrong?”

“I have already been treated for it and will be healed completely within twenty-four hours,” Jareth said. He sat down on the bed to take off his shoes and grimaced when he bent over.

Sarah knelt down in front of Jareth and held his hands to stop him. “Let me see.”

“Precious…”

“I need to know what’s wrong,” Sarah said.

Jareth sighed and unbuttoned his shirt. With Sarah’s help, he took it off to let her see the bandages and stitches that covered most of his upper body. “Jareth, what happened to you?”

“Trust me; the labs were much worse,” Jareth said, “This was just routine. Rather poorly executed routine.”

Sarah took off Jareth’s shoes before sitting next to him on the bed. “Can I help?”

Jareth shook his head. “Mycroft’s group already has taken care of me. Any interference would slow down my healing process or reverse it. I’ve had worse.”

“This isn’t even your worst?”

Jareth grimaced. “Thus why I did not tell you. I did not want you to be distressed.”

Sarah kissed Jareth’s cheek. “I think I am distressed enough as it is that everything else gets ignored.”

Once they had settled on the bed, Jareth insisted that Sarah sleep with her head against his heart. “I rest better then, precious.”

“Me too,” Sarah mumbled as she fell asleep.

&%&%&%

Sarah woke up alone. “Weirdest dream of him yet,” she muttered to herself as she got out of bed and stretched. She staggered to the kitchen to put on a pot of tea but saw that Sherlock for some reason made some for her. _Oddly considerate of him._ “Thanks for the tea Sherlock.”

“He has been out for a bit now,” Jareth said, “I made it.”

Sarah froze for a moment before turning towards Jareth, who was standing in the middle of the living room.

“We are out of milk though,” Jareth said as he focused on the collage of maps and pictures on the wall.

Sarah rushed over to Jareth and clung to him.

“Air,” Jareth gasped.

She released him slightly before looking up at him. “You’re here still.”

“Of course I am. If I had a proper lead, I would have woken you up,” Jareth said.

“Not that. I’ve dreamed about you so many times. You’re always gone as soon as I woke up. You’re really here.”

Jareth smiled and breathed in the scent of Sarah’s hair. “I had to remind myself when I woke up that you were real too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Back together again! *throws confetti* Now, for the terrorist plot. *dun dun DUNNNNN*
> 
> The chapter is from a song of the same name by OneRepublic. Around the third time I heard it I went, “This will be great for Sarah/Jareth.” Unfortunately, I could not reference it until several months after I heard it. Hopeful I can get the song out of my head now.


	4. Chapter III: Back in Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/64080.html).
> 
> Chapter title reference to the song of the same name by AC/DC.

Mycroft had decided to personally visit 221B to see how Jareth was getting on with the case. Mycroft sat in Sarah’s chair while Jareth set up a chess set.

Jareth made the first move of the game. “London. It’s like a great cesspool into which all kinds of criminals, agents and drifters are irresistibly drained. Sometimes it’s not a question of ‘Who?’ It’s a question of ‘Who Knows?’. If this man cancels his papers I need to know. If this woman leaves London without putting her dog into kennels, I need to know. There are certain people who are markers. If they start to move, I’ll know something is afoot – like rats deserting a sinking ship.” Jareth moved his next piece.

“All very interesting, Jareth, but the terror alert has been raised to Critical,” Mycroft said.

“Boring. Your move,” Jareth said.

Mycroft grabbed another game from nearby as they were both bored with playing a game that they knew the outcome of after a few moves. “We have solid information. An attack is coming.” Mycroft said as he looked at the new board.

“‘Solid information.’ A secret terrorist organization is planning an attack. That’s what secret terrorist organizations do, don’t they? It is their version of kick the goblin.”

“An agent gave his life to tell us that.”

“I am aware, but you would think he could give something a little less vague.”

Mycroft held back a sigh. “None of these markers of yours is behaving in any way suspiciously? Your move.”

“No, Mycroft, but you have to trust me. I will find the answer. It’ll be in an odd phrase in a blog, an unexpected trip to the countryside, or a misplaced Lonely Hearts advertisement. Your move.”

“I’ve given the Prime Minister my personal assurance you’re on the case.”

Jareth smirked. “I am on the case. We’re both on the case. Look at us right now.”

The buzzer for _Operation_ went off.

“Oh, bugger!” Mycroft said.

Jareth smirked. “Oh dear. You cannot handle a broken heart. How very telling.”

Mycroft sat back in his chair. “Speaking of broken hearts, how is Sarah dealing with hers?”

“Poorly. She’s forgiven me,” Jareth said.

Mycroft squinted at Jareth. “How is that bad?”

“Sarah generally does not hide her feelings from me, but she is obviously dealing with anger along with relief.”

“I did warn you. And her family?” Mycroft asked.

“Toby tried to throttle me. Mr. Williams called this morning when the tale of my resurrection was told to him by Toby. I have been invited to Thanksgiving with the family.”

“How American,” Mycroft said.

“As is Mr. Williams promising to show me his gun collection when I arrive and taking me out to the shooting range.”

“I assume that is why Sarah was not here to greet me,” Mycroft said.

“That and she is afraid that you will make her apologize by overthrowing a small country,” Jareth said.

Mycroft chuckled. “Just an island or two.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

“Neither was I. You. Owe. Me.”

“Taking down one of the most dangerous criminal networks in the history of mankind does nothing to help that?” Jareth asked.

“No. Maybe if you stay on task...”

Jareth sighed and stood up. “Rest assured, Mycroft, whatever this underground network of yours is up to, the secret will reside in something seemingly insignificant or bizarre.”

Mrs. Hudson came in carrying a tea tray. “Ooh-hoo!”

“Speaking of which...” Mycroft muttered.

Jareth smiled and turned to look at his landlady.

Mrs. Hudson set the tea tray on the table by the piano. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it! Him – sitting in his chair again! Oh, isn’t it wonderful, Mr. Holmes?”

Mycroft said dryly, “I can barely contain myself.”

Jareth replied just as dryly. “Oh, he really can, you know.”

“He’s secretly pleased to see you underneath all that,” Mrs. Hudson said as she made a grumpy face.

“Sorry. Which of us?” Mycroft asked.

“Both of you,” Mrs. Hudson said as she left the room.

“Let’s play something different,” Jareth said with glee.

Mycroft sighed. “Why are we playing games?”

“Well, London’s terror alert has been raised to Critical. I’m just passing the time. Let’s do deductions,” Jareth said. He picked up a wool, bobble hat with ear flaps that had pom poms hanging from each flap. “A client left this while I was out fetching breakfast. What can you deduce from this… ear hat?” Jareth tossed the hat.

“I’m busy,” Mycroft said.

“Oh, go on. It has been an age.”

Mycroft sniffed the hat. “I always win.”

“Which is why you can’t resist,” Jareth said.

“I find nothing irresistible in the hat of a well-traveled, anxious, sentimental, unfit creature of habit with appalling halitosis... Damn you.” Mycroft tossed the hat back to Mycroft.

“Isolated, too, don’t you think?” Jareth said.

“Why would he be isolated?” Mycroft asked.

“‘He’?”

“Obviously.”

Jareth stretched out the hat some. “Why? The size of the hat?”

“Don’t be silly. Some women have large heads too.”

A snort of laughter from the doorway alerted the men to Sarah’s presence. Jareth turned slightly to wink at Sarah.

Mycroft continued with his deductions. “No. He’s recently had his hair cut. You can see the little hairs adhering to the perspiration stains on the inside.”

“Some women have short hair, too,” Jareth said.

“Balance of probability,” Mycroft said, “Stains show he’s out of condition, and he’s sentimental because the hat has been repaired three, four...”

“Five times.” Jareth tossed the hat back. “Very neatly. The cost of the repairs exceeds the cost of the hat, so he's mawkishly attached to it, but it’s more than that. One, perhaps two, patches would indicate sentimentality, but five? Five’s excessive behavior. Obsessive compulsive.”

“Hardly. Your client left it behind. What sort of an obsessive compulsive would do that?” Mycroft asked as he threw the hat back. “The earlier patches are extensively sun-bleached, so he’s worn it abroad… in Peru.”

“Peru?” Jareth asked.

“This is a chullo – the classic headgear of the Andes. It’s made of alpaca,” Mycroft said.

Jareth smirked. “No.”

“No?” Mycroft asked.

“Icelandic sheep wool. Similar, but very distinctive if you know what you’re looking for. Dante decided for his Grand Tour to go looking for every fiber he could get his hands on. I, of course, helped when I could,” Jareth said.

“That Dante sounds fascinating,” Mrs. Hudson said when she came back to 221B with a teapot.

“My kinsman can be,” Jareth said before he returned to the game. “You said the client was anxious.”

“The bobble on the left side has been badly chewed, which shows he’s a man of a nervous disposition but...”

“...but also a creature of habit because he hasn’t chewed the bobble on the right.” Jareth continued.

“Precisely.”

Jareth sniffed the hat and grimaced as Mrs. Hudson left 221B. “A brief sniff of the offending bobble tells us everything we need to know about the state of his breath. Brilliant.” The last word was said with no enthusiasm.

“Elementary,” Mycroft replied.

“But you’ve missed his isolation.”

“I don’t see it.”

“Plain as day, Mr. Umbrella,” Sarah added.

“Where?” Mycroft asked with irritation.

“There for all to see,” Jareth said.

“Tell me,” Mycroft said.

Jareth said, “Plain as the nose on your...”

“Tell me,” Mycroft said again.

“Well, anybody who wears a hat as stupid as this isn’t in the habit of being around other people, is he?” Jareth said.

“Not at all. Maybe he just doesn’t mind being different. He doesn’t necessarily have to be isolated,” Mycroft said.

Jareth examined the hat again. “Exactly.”

“I’m sorry?” Mycroft asked in genuine confusion.

Jareth looked up. “He is different. Why does it matter? Why would he mind? You are quite right.” Jareth perched the hat on his head, squishing his hair poof. “Why would anyone mind?”

Mycroft struggled with a response for a moment. “I’m not lonely, Jareth.”

Jareth moved closer to Mycroft before saying quietly, “How would you know?”

After a tense moment, Jareth turned to Sarah and placed the hat on her head. 

Mycroft sighed in exasperation. “Yes. Back to work if you don’t mind. Good morning.” With a nod to Sarah, the British Government left 221B.

Sarah smiled up at Jareth. “How's it sit? Pretty cunning, don't you think?” She placed the hat back on Jareth’s head. “A man walks down the street in that hat, people know he's not afraid of anything.”

Jareth gave a kiss to Sarah as he tossed the hat to the side. “How are you, precious?”

“Not bad. Toby is still mad at me though,” Sarah said, “Don’t you have to save the world?”

“Boring. You are much more interesting,” Jareth said as placed a kiss on Sarah’s neck.

“But if you start working on saving the world, your tea won’t get cold,” Sarah said.

Jareth groaned. “I am a torn man, Sarah.”

“Tea, terrorists, and then us. Alright?” Sarah said.

Jareth kissed Sarah again. She held onto the tie of Jareth’s dressing gown as he turned to the wall of information behind the sofa. “Right. Back to work.”

&%&%&%

Sarah had settled next to Jareth on the sofa. While he sorted through information and messages on his phone, Sarah was looking at the media backlash of Jareth not being dead. A local group in London called the Empty Crystal was particularly active in spreading the word that Jareth was alive. 

Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs some time later. “Jareth, you seem to have some clients.”

“How?” Jareth asked.

“You were on the news,” Mrs. Hudson said.

“And the internet,” Sarah said, “Except for some Australians who are sleeping, I think everyone knows.”

“What should I do with the two downstairs though?” Mrs. Hudson asked.

Jareth looked at Sarah pleadingly. “I am waiting on information for Mycroft’s case. Pleeeeeeeeeeeease Sarah. Can I please have a case?”

Sarah groaned and covered her eyes. “Fine. If I am stuck in a bomb situation again, I will be very cross with you.”

&%&%&%

The Harcourts were a well-dressed middle aged couple. Mrs. Harcourt sat in the red chair while Mr. Harcourt stood. Sarah sat at the dining room table while facing the clients so she could take notes. Jareth walked over to the couple from the wall of information.

“Tell us more about your case, Mr. Harcourt,” Jareth said.

“Well, absolutely no one should have been able to empty that bank account other than myself and Helen,” Mr. Harcourt said.

Jareth focused on the husband. “Why didn’t you assume it was your wife?” 

Mr. Harcourt stood straighter. “Because I’ve always had total faith in her.”

Jareth spoke quickly and pointed to the man’s jacket, hairline, and forehead. “No. It is because you emptied it. Weight loss, hair dye, Botox, affair.” Jareth handed a business card to Mrs. Harcourt. “Lawyer. Next!”

&%&%&%

“Please try to be a little nicer to the next one,” Sarah said as she put various pieces of furniture back to their original places.

“Band-Aid approach doesn’t work?” Jareth asked.

“Not with information like that, no,” Sarah said.

&%&%&%

A woman in her late thirties came in with her stepfather over the case of the man she met online that the woman thought she was in love with. Jareth reassuringly patted the woman’s clasped hands. Jareth could see Sarah glaring at him from the corner of his eye.

“And your pen pal’s emails just stopped, did they?” Jareth said softly.

The woman nodded and whimpered.

“And you really thought he was the one, didn’t you? The love of your life?” Jareth said.

The woman took off her glasses and cried harder. Jareth went over to Sarah.

“Was that hand holding really necessary?” Sarah said sternly.

Jareth said quietly, but with some anger, “The stepfather is posing as the online boyfriend.”

“What?” Sarah said in true shock and sympathy for the client.

“He breaks it off and breaks her heart. She swears off relationships. She stays at home. He still has her wage coming in,” Jareth said.

Sarah said, “What are you going to…”

Jareth turned and said, “Mr. Winibank, you have been a complete and utter cad!”

&%&%&%

Sarah put up the furniture again. “Not. A. Band. Aid.”

Jareth looked at his phone. “Lestrade has a case for us. Oh! Skeleton that no one can identify. I read it in the papers so it _must_ be true. I’ll get Toby.”

“Jareth I don’t think that’s…”

Jareth quickly made his way down to 221C where Crowley and the Boys were holed up. He knocked on the door. “Toby! Do you want to see a skeleton?”

Toby came to the door smiled and said, “Yeah, yours,” before slamming the door in Jareth’s face.

“TOBIAS WILLIAMS YOU APOLOGIZE RIGHT NOW!” Sarah shouted down the stairs.

“I JUST AM ASKING HIM TO FINISH WHAT HE FAKED!” Toby shouted through the door.

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK!” Sarah continued shouting as she made her way to 221C.

“MAKE ME!” Toby said.

Sarah had reached the door. “COME OUT HERE AND FACE ME YOU BACK TALKING… TEENAGER! YOU AREN’T EVEN REALLY PUNK! JUSTIN BIEBER IS MORE PUNK THAN YOU!”

Toby opened the door. “YOU TAKE THAT BACK!”

“YOU TAKE IT BACK FIRST!”

“OR WHAT? YOU’LL WISH ME AWAY AGAIN?”

“HOW DARE YOU?”

The Williams siblings were interrupted by the sound of a gong. They turned and saw Jareth holding a suspended gong the size of his chest while Mrs. Hudson was holding a mallet.

“And that is the end of round one, don’t you think Jareth?” Mrs. Hudson said.

“I leave all judgment up to you, Mrs. Hudson,” Jareth said.

“Now dearies, you two are going to sit in opposite corners for one minute before fighting again. If any of you tries to break that minute, they will automatically lose the fight and have to do something nice for the person who won,” Mrs. Hudson said.

“Yes, Mrs. Hudson,” Sarah and Toby said.

Toby stomped off to the staircase. Sarah turned to leave for Mrs. Hudson’s kitchen but was stopped by Jareth.

“Do you want me to stay?” Jareth asked.

“I really need to sort things out with Toby, but I know you prefer to have a partner with you,” Sarah said, “Sherlock is going to be back in an hour or so if you want to wait.”

“I actually have someone else in mind,” Jareth said.

&%&%&%

Detective Inspector Lestrade led Jareth and his new assistant into an old, hidden room. “This one’s got us all baffled.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Jareth said.

“That’s not nice Jareth,” Molly Hooper said as she adjusted her black and bright pink scarf.

“Well, he wouldn’t ask me to an abandoned basement as a social call unless he decided to kill me. Are you going to murder me, Lestrade?” Jareth said.

“I am far down that list, Jareth,” Lestrade said as he began turning on lights in the hidden room, “By the time I got to you, there would be nothing left.”

Seated behind a wooden table at the far end of the room was a skeleton dressed in a Victorian era suit. On the desk was a carafe, a glass, and a writing set. The skeleton held a syringe in one hand.

Jareth began examining the corpse. He sensed neither dreams nor magic. More basic means of examination were used. He sniffed the corpse and deduced it smelled of new mothballs and fire damage. Jareth then tried to get a signal on his phone.

“What is it?” Molly asked, “You’re on to something, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Jareth said as he closed his phone and continued his investigation of the skeleton’s clothes.

Lestrade whispered to Jareth, “This going to be your new arrangement, is it?”

“Sarah had to take care of Toby,” Jareth said.

“The boy can take care of himself,” Lestrade said.

“As you said, he is a boy. We make silly mistakes,” Jareth said.

Cement dust fell from the ceiling as a rumbling went past. 

“Trains?” Molly asked.

“Trains,” Jareth confirmed as he motioned for Molly to examine the body.

“Male, forty to fifty,” Molly said. She squinted in confusion after a few moments. “Doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?” Lestrade asked.

Jareth gently blew away dust on the table.

“This skeleton... it can’t be any more than… six months old,” Molly said.

Jareth opened a hidden compartment in the side of the table. He pulled out a book and blew off the dust. The detective rolled his eyes before tossing the book on the table: _How I Did It_ by Jack the Ripper.

Molly said, “It’s impossible!”

Jareth motioned to himself. “Welcome to my world.”

Lestrade grinned as Jareth tried to leave.

“I won’t insult your intelligence by explaining it to you,” Jareth said.

“No, please. Insult away!” Lestrade said.

“The corpse is six months old; it is dressed in a shoddy Victorian outfit from a museum. It has been displayed on a dummy for many years in a case facing south-east judging from the fading of the fabric. It was sold off in a fire-damage sale a week ago,” Jareth said quickly. He held up his phone to Lestrade to show the sale.

“So the whole thing was a fake,” Lestrade said.

“Yes,” Jareth said as he left the room.

“Looked so promising,” Greg said.

“Facile,” Jareth said out of the room.

“Why would someone go to all that trouble?” Molly asked as she began to follow Jareth.

“Why indeed?” Jareth said, “That is the real mystery of this case.”

&%&%&%

Sometime later, Jareth and Molly stood outside of a flat where instead of a normal “ding-dong” from the door bell, there was a recording of “Mind the gap. Mind the gap.” Molly giggled quietly before a young man answered the door. Jareth gave the bobble hat to the man.

“Oh. Thanks for hanging on to it,” the man said.

“It was no trouble,” Jareth said as the man led the duo further into the flat. “So, what is this all about, Mr. Shilcott?”

The flat was full of train memorabilia from all over the world, though it mainly focused on the London Underground.

“My girlfriend’s a big fan of yours,” Mr. Shilcott said.

“Girlfriend?” Jareth said in surprise.

Molly elbowed Jareth as the comment obviously insulted the client.

“Terribly sorry, Howard. Do go on,” Jareth said.

“I like trains,” Howard said.

_Must… resist… sarcasm…_

“I work on the Tube, on the District Line, and part of my job is to wipe the security footage after it’s been cleared,” Howard said as he sat down at his computer. “I was just whizzing through and I found something a bit bizarre.”

Howard showed the screen to Jareth and Molly. A business man stood outside of an empty set of Tube cars. “Now, this was a week ago. The last train on the Friday night, Westminster station, and this man gets into the last car.”

“‘Car’?” Molly asked.

“They’re cars, not carriages. It’s a legacy of the early American involvement in the Tube system,” Howard said.

“Damn Sarah’s birth country and its improper use of the Queen’s English,” Jareth said with a grin.

Howard ignored Jareth’s comment. “And the next stop... St James’s Park station... and...”

The footage showed no one leaving the last car as there was no one there.

“I thought you’d like it,” Howard said. He replayed the video. “He gets into the last car at Westminster, the only passenger... and the car is empty at St James’s Park station. Explain that, Mr. King.”

“Couldn’t he have just jumped off?” Molly asked.

“There’s a safety mechanism that prevents the doors from opening in transit. But there’s something else. The driver of that train hasn’t been to work since. According to his flatmate, he’s on holiday. Came into some money,” Howard said.

“Bought off?” Jareth asked. When he did not get an immediate response, he continued. “So if the driver of the train was in on it, then the passenger did get off.”

“There’s nowhere he could go. It’s a straight run on the District Line between the two stations. There’s no side tunnels, no maintenance tunnels – nothing on any map. Nothing. The train never stops, and the man vanishes. Good, isn’t it?” Howard said.

“I know that face,” Jareth said before walking out of the apartment.

&%&%&%

Jareth’s thoughts were interrupted by Molly. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Jareth said. He looked around and realized he had walked down to the entrance of Howard’s flat.

“You just… blanked out. Mind palace?” Molly asked.

“The journey between those stations usually takes five minutes. That journey took ten minutes. So I will need maps – lots of maps, older maps, all the maps,” Jareth said. He paused for a moment. “I think Sarah mentioned a meme along those lines.”

“Right…” Molly said.

“Fancy some chips? Sarah is going to want to fatten me up again. I might as well start on my own before she worries openly,” Jareth said.

“What?”

“I know a fantastic fish shop just off the Marylebone Road. The owner always gives me extra portions.”

“Did you get him off a murder charge?”

“No. I helped him put up some shelves,” Jareth said with a smile, “They have really good chips. I was reduced to manual labor for those chips.”

Molly laughed before becoming serious again. “Jareth, what was today about?”

“A rare occurrence: thank you.”

“For what?” Molly asked.

Jareth looked at Molly in confusion. “Everything you did for me. Why would I not say thank you?”

“It’s okay,” Molly said.

“No, I mean it,” Jareth said, “Moriarty slipped up. He made a mistake. Because the one person he thought didn’t matter at all to me was the one person that mattered the most. You, the most magnificent and magical Molly, made it all possible.”

Jareth took Molly’s right hand and gave a courtly kiss to the air above her hand. Molly giggled as Jareth released her hand.

“I owe you, Dr. Hooper, but I do not think I can ever repay you. All I can do and say is thank you,” Jareth said, “I am in your debt.”

“You’re welcome,” Molly said. She sensed that the last sentence Jareth had said had greater weight than what a human could say.

Jareth motioned to Molly’s other hand. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

“He’s not from work,” Molly said as she showed her ring, “We met the old-fashioned way.”

“You were traded for some goats?” Jareth said teasingly.

“No, through friends,” Molly said, “He’s nice. He’s got a dog. We go to the pub on weekends. I’ve met his mum and dad and his friends and all his family and I’ve no idea why I’m telling you this.”

“I hope the best of happiness to you, Molly Hooper. You deserve it, more than most I have met.” 

&%&%&%

Jareth came back to 221 with several bags with fish and chips. “I come with nourishment,” Jareth shouted down to 221C.

Most of the food was taken by the band, including Toby. Mrs. Hudson declined as she already had dinner.

Sarah came downstairs. “Did the boys take it all?”

“Plenty left,” Jareth said. He tilted up her chin and kissed her gently. “How are you after your talk with Toby?”

“You will not be murdered in your sleep if that is any comfort,” Sarah.

“I asked how _you_ were, precious,” Jareth said.

“I have been better and I have been worse,” Sarah said.

Sherlock snuck up behind Sarah. “It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.”

“BY ALL THE…. Sherlock Holmes, do not do that again,” Sarah said.

“You are no fun at all,” Sherlock said.

Jareth gave a serving of fish and chips wrapped in newspaper to Sherlock. “Eat.”

“No. Case.”

“Sherlock. Holmes. Now.”

“Make. Me. Old. Man.”

“William. Sherlock. Scott. Holmes. Eat.”

Sherlock looked at Jareth in horror.

“William?” Sarah said, “Your name is William and you decided to go with Sherlock? Does that mean I get to call you Willy from now? Or Big Willy? Little Willy? Free Willy?”

Sherlock took his fish and chips and went upstairs to sulk while he ate his dinner. “I can’t believe you told her.”

“Oh, I am sure you already told her about the curious incident of the dog at nighttime,” Jareth said.

Mary unlocked the front door of 221 Baker Street and rushed inside.

“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.

“Sorry,” Mary said as she tried to catch her breath, “I… I think someone’s got John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The incident of the dog at nighttime is a reference to the book of the same name which is in itself to a case of Sherlock Holmes. _Reference inception_.
> 
> My first thought when I saw Sherlock wear the hat was _Firefly_.


	5. Chapter IV: Geis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/64080.html).

Mary unlocked the front door of 221 Baker Street and rushed inside. 

“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.

“Sorry,” Mary said as she tried to catch her breath, “I… I think someone’s got John.”

Sherlock ran to the landing when he heard the voice. “Mary? What’s wrong?”

Mary held up her phone as Sherlock dropped his fish and chips to run downstairs. 

“Someone sent me this. At first I thought it was just a Bible thing, you know, spam, but it’s not. It’s a skip-code,” Mary said.

Sherlock, Jareth, and Sarah all huddled around the small blonde woman to read the message.

**Save souls now!  
John or James Watson?**

“First word, then every third. Save... John... Watson,” Sherlock said.

**Saint or Sinner?  
** James or John?  
The more is Less? 

Sherlock grabbed Mary’s wrist. “Now!”

“Where are we going?” Mary asked.

Jareth said, “Saint James the Less. It’s a church. Twenty minutes by car.”

Sherlock ran into the empty street with Mary by his side. Jareth and Sarah stood on the sidewalk.

“Did you drive here?” Sherlock asked.

“Er, yes,” Mary said.

“I have Buffy!” Sarah said.

“It’s too slow. It’s too slow,” Sherlock said.

A car barely missed hitting Sherlock and the driver blared his horn.

“Sherlock, what are we waiting for?” Mary asked.

“GIVE ME TIME!” Sherlock shouted at Jareth.

Jareth said, “I can’t do that unless…”

Sherlock turned towards the oncoming headlights. A motorcycle was coming towards him and was not trying to avoid hitting him.

A crystal appeared in Jareth’s hand. He threw it towards the ground near Sherlock. Just before the crystal would have hit the ground, Sherlock caught it just as the biker stopped.

Sherlock grinned. “Thank you for your help.” 

“You don’t understand Sherlock,” Jareth pleaded.

Sherlock ignored Jareth and got the two people on the motorcycle to give up their helmets and their vehicle. “I have to save John!”

Mary pulled on her helmet and pointed at the crystal. “What is that?”

“Time,” Sherlock said.

“Sherlock stop!” Jareth said.

It was too late. The two disappeared.

“Sarah, we need to run,” Jareth said, “Where is your van?”

“Out back. What happened to them?” Sarah said.

“I stopped time for one minute,” Jareth said as he grabbed Sarah, “We need to go. Everyone is going to be coming after Sherlock.”

“Why?” Sarah asked.

“Because they will follow the magic and think he is me,” Jareth said.

&%&%&%

Sarah made Buffy go as fast as the vehicle could handle without crashing. “The Underground doesn’t know you’re alive?”

“They have probably already heard rumors,” Jareth said as he clung to his seat, “I have not touched magic in two years. All of the healing I have had has been through others.”

“Who is going to be coming after you?” Sarah asked.

Jareth thought for a moment. “It could be anyone. I am not sure how much Oberon… SARAH WATCH OUT!”

Sarah barely saw the glimmer in the road before the car flipped over itself forward twice and on its side three times until it landed upside down. Sarah and Jareth each grabbed onto each other, trying to anchor the other as the car flipped. She had time to think ten billion thoughts from “We’re going to die” to “This will make my car insurance go up. I hope I can afford it.” The glass shattered and flew around the van.

When the car finally stopped, Sarah and Jareth were hanging upside down in the van, held up only by their seat belts. The van’s glass had mostly landed in the car while the rest spilled out onto the road, flickering in the lamplight. All was quiet for a moment.

Then Sarah heard boots walking on glass.

“Jareth,” a male voice said, “I thought you had another trick up your sleeve.”

“Unconscious,” Jareth whispered to Sarah.

“I thought it was only opossums that pretended to die, not rats,” the male voice said, “And quite a long time to pretend too.”

Sarah closed her eyes and let herself relax as much as she could. She let her arms hang down; the glass scraped across her hands.

Jareth released his seatbelt and crashed to the ground. “Wilheard, how unpleasant to meet you again.”

The man yanked Jareth out of the car and pulled him to standing. “How about I make your eyes match for once rat? Would you liked them ripped out one at a time or together?”

“If I recall correctly, I won that fight,” Jareth said.

Sarah felt a hand with leather like skin take her pulse at her neck. “The girl’s alive, majesty,” a scratchy voice said.

“Fix that, won’t you?” Wilheard said.

Jareth broke Wilheard’s grip and then punched the son of Oberon. “IF ANY MORE HARM COMES TO HER I WILL END YOUR SNIVELING LIFE YOU FOUL BEAST!”

There was a loud crack as Wilheard smashed Jareth into the road. “You have no right to speak to me as such, kinsman of goblin whores.”

“My. Sister. Is. Not. A. WHORE!” Jareth said as he struggled against Wilheard.

“Oh she is, as is your little mixed-blood niece. Think about all the terrible things that could have happened to your mischief of rats over the past two years,” Wilheard said before he began repeatedly hitting Jareth, forcing Jareth back to the ground.

Sarah could take no more. Quietly, she grabbed a long piece of glass and opened her eyes. In one movement, she covered the mouth of the dwarf who was guarding her and held the shard of glass to his throat. 

“I will let you live if you say nothing,” Sarah said.

The dwarf whimpered an affirmative to Sarah. She had to cut her seatbelt with the iron knife she kept in one her boots. Sarah landed harder than Jareth and cut up her right shoulder and arm. 

By that time, Jareth had gathered enough magic to throw Wilheard back several meters. Sarah was able to move out of the vehicle and go around it. There were several dwarfs near Sarah, but they seemed to not want to have anything to do with her. They muttered something about “the lady is nice even to traitors”. Several Fae guards stood near Wilheard, but they were paying attention to the fight and not their surroundings.

“I wish the goblins could help Jareth right now,” Sarah said to herself.

Jareth was shaking badly from simply sitting up. His left eye was swollen shut and several of his old wounds had reopened during the fight. Sarah could see the blood soaking through the front of his white shirt.

Wilheard stood again. “You have almost no strength left. I doubt you could even cast one spell to…”

Jareth interrupted by using a spell that threw Wilheard against the van. Wilheard collapsed to the ground. Jareth was still conscious, but barely.

Sarah took the opportunity to rush around the van, shove Wilheard to the ground, sit on his back, and twist his left arm. She was not quite certain what language Wilheard cursed in, though she could clearly hear Jareth using an extraordinary amount of expletives. Sarah focused on the Fae she was pinning down and not at the group aiming their weapons at her. Fear gnawed at her stomach as Jareth made no more sound of protest.

“You will listen to me very carefully. If you do not, I will end your life,” Sarah commanded.

“You are a nurse,” Wilheard said just as calmly.

“And a Champion of the Labyrinth. You hurt Jareth. I will use every ounce of cruelty I have if you do not comply,” Sarah said. 

“I will not listen to a pathetic mortal like you,” Wilheard sneered.

“This pathetic mortal is currently holding a knife at your throat,” Sarah said.

“What do you want?” Wilheard said.

“For you, your family, and your armies to bring no harm to Jareth and I as well as my friends and family. You will not come after Jareth and me; we will not come after you,” Sarah said, “If I do not let you go, I am dead. I will keep my word. Jareth, as you can see, has limited magic. The man who could re-alter time was unable to defend himself. We pose no threat to you or your lands. Leave us alone or die. That is your choice.”

“Just your family and friends?” Wilheard said.

“Yes. Promise. A geis,” Sarah said.

Wilheard said, “A geis? ARE YOU MAD?” 

“Yes to the first. Definitely to the second,” Sarah said. She put a small nick to the man’s neck. “Your answer, son of Oberon.”

“FINE! I promise that my family, armies, and I will bring no harm to you, Jareth, or Sarah Williams’ friends and family,” Wilheard said.

Sarah mixed a small amount of the blood on her hand with the nick she had put on Wilheard. “The geis is sealed.” She pushed off of the Fae. “Away with you. Or do you want to break your geis already?”

Wilheard jumped to his feet and glared at Sarah as she sat against the van. “This geis does not protect you entirely.”

“I am aware,” Sarah said, “Having worked with the Fair Folk, I know that compromises are necessary.”

“Your majesty,” one of the guards said.

“What?” Wilheard snapped.

“There is a hawk by Lord Jareth,” the guard said.

“By all the powers,” Wilheard growled as he turned around to face Jareth. 

The hawk quickly morphed into the Goblin King. She pointed her Pappenheim-hilt rapier at the crowned prince while stepping between Wilheard and Jareth. “What. Did. You. Do?”

“He is an enemy of the Courts,” Wilheard said calmly.

“Not all of them. He is my citizen. He has broken no laws of mine,” Christiana said.

“Is a failed king really worth you leaving your kingdom undefended?” Wilheard said, drawing his swept-hilt rapier.

“The Goblin Kingdom is safe and my kinsman is worth fighting for,” Christiana said, “I heard the geis. Leave.”

“The geis said nothing about you and I certainly will not let this opportunity pass to exterminate the rat king,” Wilheard said.

Sarah tried to say something, but was interrupted by the fight between Wilheard and Christiana. It was a mix of magic and swordplay. The Goblin King was at a disadvantage because the guards tried to protect Oberon’s heir. Sarah moved over to Jareth when Christiana twisted one of the guards around a lamppost.

Jareth’s good eye was barely open; he was quickly losing conciseness. “Precious… idiot.”

“Very much so. I need to get you out of here before Wilheard is killed,” Sarah said as she began trying to figure out the best way to move Jareth.

“King… not soldier,” Jareth said.

“I know Christiana is not a soldier. I never said she was going to kill him,” Sarah said.

Wilheard gave Christiana a deep cut to her left calf. The Goblin King collapsed to the ground with a cry of pain. Wilheard fell to the ground almost at the same time. The guards rushed to Oberon’s son. 

It was too late. 

Wilheard arched his back as he screamed. His blood boiled, his skin melted, and his bones crumbled. In less than thirty seconds, he was no more.

“He broke a geis,” one of the guards whispered as he tried to catch Wilheard’s dust and ash.

“But that was no ordinary geis,” said another.

“Leave,” Sarah said.

The guards looked at the Champion of the Labyrinth with fear. They instantly did as she said.

Christiana winced as she tried to stand but found she could only hop on her right foot over to Jareth before flopping down to the ground next to him. “What did you do Sarah?”

“Oberon’s son broke a geis. That’s what happened,” Sarah said with no sign of emotion.

“I heard the geis and…”

“You are Jareth’s niece. His family is my family,” Sarah said, “The geis is broken and no longer protects or harms. I think I can hear police sirens. I would suggest you go home as I am certain Oberon will not be happy to hear his son his dead.”

Christiana nodded. She made two crystals and placed them next to Jareth. “Place one over his heart and one on his forehead. He should heal very quickly after the doctors help him.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said.

Jareth grabbed Christiana’s hand and held on tightly. “Sorry.”

“We will deal with this later,” Christiana said, “Don’t come to the Underground until you care called. I am glad you are not dead, kinsman.”

Jareth closed his eyes and smiled.

&%&%&%

Jareth awoke several hours later at Bart’s. Sarah was next to him as he tried to rip out his IV’s.

“I’m here. You’re safe,” Sarah said calmly as she tried to make him stop.

After a few moments of struggle, Jareth seemed to realize where he was. His hands were shaking as he held onto Sarah’s forearms. 

“No morphine,” Jareth said.

“It’s not on. I made sure of it,” Sarah said.

“I don’t wan… need it,” Jareth corrected himself.

Sarah stroked his head. “I know. Please calm down.”

A nurse came in to check on Jareth. “How are you doing Mr. King?”

“Like I have been in a fight,” Jareth said, “You are a friend of Sarah’s.”

“Yes. Aimee. We used to work on the same shift,” the nurse said, “Sarah showed me the ropes.”

Jareth nodded. After a brief medical examination, Aimee left.

Sarah said, “They saved John. Someone stuck him in a Guy Fawke’s bonfire.”

“It is not the fifth yet,” Jareth said.

“Apparently they did it early,” Sarah said. She pulled out the two crystals from her coat.

As Sarah finished applying the Goblin King’s magic, Sarah heard Mary Morstan say from the doorway, “What did you just do?”

Sarah turned around and saw Mary staring at Jareth wide eyed as the swelling around his eye immediately begin to go away. John was standing next to her. Sherlock stood behind them, pleading for Sarah to explain.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story,” Sarah said.

“How long?” Mary asked.

“At least 200,000 words worth,” Sarah estimated.

&%&%&%

It was almost five in the morning when Jareth and Sarah returned to Baker Street. Toby was in 221B, his eyes barely open as it appeared he had fallen asleep on the couch. He gave a hug to both Jareth and Sarah.

“I’m glad you’re not dead. I’m still pissed though,” Toby said to Jareth.

“As you should be,” Jareth said.

Toby went back to 221C. Sarah helped Jareth into bed.

“Precious,” Jareth said as Sarah settled in next to him, “I am sorry for what happened.”

“I did what I had to do. I am not…” Sarah shut her eyes tight. “I am so sorry. I know he was awful, but I could have made the geis… I wanted him to suffer.”

Jareth held Sarah as close as he could. “I did too.”

“I shouldn’t have wanted it,” Sarah said.

Jareth made Sarah face him. “I know you want words of comfort or anger. I can give you neither. I would have done the same, but I know you felt it was wrong.”

“You don’t?” Sarah said.

“He killed the man my niece loved, breaking her in the process. I have only restrained myself for her sake,” Jareth said, “If he had laid a hand on you, I would have killed him with much less mercy than you.”

Sarah said quietly, “We are not very good people, are we?”

“Not in the least,” Jareth said.

“What are we going to do now?” Sarah asked.

“We are going to find a bomb,” Jareth said.

“I meant about what happened tonight,” Sarah said.

“Sarah, the spat between two families doesn’t amount to a hill of beans… damn. Lie,” Jareth said.

“Jareth…”

“Precious, if we do not find that bomb, how many people do you think will die?”

“We need to…”

“Worry about it later,” Jareth said. He kissed Sarah’s forehead. “The blame lies with me.”

“Jareth, I will break all of your ribs if you try to take the blame for my own actions. I am responsible for my own choices, just as you are responsible for yours,” Sarah said.

Jareth smiled. “I would have it no other way. We need to sleep though. I think Sherlock will have visitors tomorrow.”

“Sherlock? Are they clients?”

“Far worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have been in a car accident where the car flipped over. I was just grateful we stopped and did not slam into several of the large trees that would have made the car a pretzel. Fortunately, it was a one car accident where both the driver and I were fine. The car went into the great junkyard in the sky and took some small saplings with it.
> 
> The weapons mentioned in this chapter I took from the information found in _Weapon: A Visual History of Arms and Armor_. (It is my favorite reference book to use, though I have a fondness for _Book of Poisons_.) This is for those who want to know specific specs. Christiana’s sword is German and is built for military use; Wilheard’s is Italian and was made more to look elegant than for military use (think A _Princess Bride_ sword). Christiana’s sword is 3/4ths of an inch longer. Yes, that last fact was part of my decision making process.


	6. Chapter V: Tick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/64080.html).

The next morning, Jareth sat in his chair with Sarah on his lap in the living room of 221B. A lovely, older couple sat on the sofa while telling a story. Sherlock sat in the red chair and looked ready either to kill or be killed.

The white haired woman told the tale while the man agreed with her. “Anyway, it was then that I first noticed it was missing. I said, ‘Have you checked down the back of the sofa?’ He’s always losing things down the back of the sofa, aren’t you, dear?”

“Afraid so,” the man said.

Sarah was grinning which made Jareth smile. Sherlock was glaring at both of them.

The woman continued. “Keys, small change, sweeties. Especially his glasses.”

“Glasses,” the man confirmed. 

The woman said, “Blooming things. I said, ‘Why don’t you get a chain – wear ’em round your neck?’ And he says…” 

“‘What? Like Larry Grayson?’” the couple said together.

Sherlock jumped to his feet and buttoned his jacket. “So did you find it eventually? Your lottery ticket?” He stepped on the coffee table and then onto the sofa between the couple. He flicked through some of the paperwork on the wall.

“Well, yes, thank goodness. We caught the coach on time after all. We managed to see… St Paul’s, the Tower... but they weren’t letting anyone into Parliament,” the woman said.

“I think there is a major debate going on today,” Sarah said.

The living room door opened as John walked in. “Sorry. You’re busy.”

Sherlock stepped off the sofa and pulled the woman to her feet. “No. No, no, no. They were just leaving.

“Oh, were we?” the woman said.

“Yes,” Sherlock said.

“But they haven’t had tea yet,” Sarah said.

“No, no, if you’ve got a case...” John said.

“No, not a case, no-no-no. Go. Bye,” Sherlock said as the older man stood.

“Yeah, well, we’re here until Saturday, remember. We’re having brunch on Friday with your friends,” the woman said.

“So sorry about Les Mis,” Sarah said.

“Yes, great, wonderful. Just get out,” Sherlock said as he pushed the couple towards the door.

“Well, give us a ring,” the woman said.

“Very nice, yes, good. Get out,” Sherlock said. 

Sherlock tried to close the door, but was stopped. It took a few moments, but he was finally able to get the couple to leave. He shoved the door shut and let out a deep sigh. 

Sherlock said to John, “Sorry about that.”

“No, it’s fine. Clients?” John asked.

Sherlock hesitated for a moment. “...Just my parents.”

Jareth and Sarah was stifling their laughter.

“Your parents?” John asked.

“In town for a few days,” Sherlock said.

“Your parents?” John asked again.

“Mycroft promised to take them to a matinee of Les Mis. Tried to talk me into doing it,” Sherlock said.

“Those were your parents?” John said.

“Yes,” Sherlock said.

“Well... That is not what I...” John paused as he tried to find the right word.

“What?” Sherlock asked.

“I mean they’re just... so... ordinary.”

Jareth and Sarah began laughing hysterically. Sarah laughed so hard she fell to the floor.

“It’s a cross I have to bear,” Sherlock said, “Though it would help if a certain former roommate did not put the idea to visit London in their heads.”

“I knew they would worry about you after I came back,” Jareth said.

“I hate you,” Sherlock said quietly as he sat down on the sofa.

Sarah sat up and said in a deep voice, “Now, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, that is not how we talk to our friends.”

Jareth and Sarah started laughing again.

“Your first name is William but you went with Sherlock?” John asked as he sat next to the man in question.

“My parents are dull. I went with the only name of merit they gave me,” Sherlock said.

“I would not say they are dull. Your Mother did identify me as a Fae when we were introduced and your Father identified me specifically as a goblin,” Jareth said.

“Change of subject,” Sherlock said, “How are you feeling John?”

“Yeah, not bad. Bit... smoked,” John said.

“Right,” Sherlock said.

“You got out of that bonfire better than I did with a dragon,” Jareth said, “It was a nasty old red dragon with a great booming voice.”

John ignored Jareth’s ramblings. “Last night, who did that? And why did they target me?”

“I don’t know,” Sherlock said. Sarah sat down in the red chair.

“Is it someone trying to get to you through me? Is it something to do with this terrorist thing you and Jareth are working on?” John asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t see the pattern. It’s too nebulous,” Jareth said. He walked over to the wall of information. “Why would an agent give his life to tell us something incredibly insignificant? That’s what’s strange.”

“‘Give his life’?” John said.

“According to Mycroft. There’s an underground network planning an attack on London. That’s all we know,” Jareth said.

“These are the rats, John,” Sherlock said with a wave of his hand to the wall behind him.

“Rats?” John asked as he stood up to look at the wall.

“Must you insult rats that way?” Jareth said.

“What else am I supposed to call them?” Sherlock said.

Jareth looked up at the ceiling for a moment before explaining. “These are my markers: agents, low-lives, people who might find themselves arrested or their diplomatic immunity suddenly rescinded. If one of them starts acting suspiciously, we know something is going to happen. Five of them are behaving perfectly normally, but the sixth...”

John pointed to the picture at the center of the collage. “I know him, don’t I?”

“Lord Moran, peer of the realm, Minister for Overseas Development. Pillar of the establishment,” Jareth said.

“That’s it!” John said.

“He’s been working for North Korea since 1996,” Sarah said.

“What?” John asked.

“He’s the Big Rat. Rat Number One. And he’s just done something very suspicious indeed,” Sherlock said.

“Stop insulting rats!” Jareth said.

&%&%&%

Jareth played the video of Moran on his laptop in the kitchen. 

“There’s nowhere he could have got off?” John asked after he was shown the footage.

“Not according to the maps,” Sherlock said.

“And no magic was used,” Jareth added.

“So both our dear detectives are befuddled,” Sarah said, “That makes it quite the interesting case.”

“There’s something… something I’m missing. Something staring me in the face,” Jareth said.

Sherlock’s phone beeped that it had a message.

John asked as Sherlock checked his phone, “Any idea who they are? This underground network? Intelligence must have a list of the most obvious ones.”

“Our rat has just come out of his den,” Sherlock mumbled as he showed Jareth several photos of Moran.

John continued, “Al-Qaeda? The IRA has been getting restless again – maybe they’re going to make an appearance...”

Jareth jumped to his feet. “YES! I’ve been an idiot! A blind idiot!”

“Please be more specific on what you are blind to,” Sarah said.

“This could be brilliant,” Jareth said as he paced between the kitchen and the living room.

“What are you on about?” John asked.

“Mycroft’s intelligence. It is not nebulous at all. It is specific: incredibly specific, “Jareth said, “It is not an underground network. It’s an _Underground_ network.”

“As in prancing goblins Underground or ‘Mind the Gap’ Underground?” Sarah said.

“Alas, the second. A bit dull in comparison, but not much so,” Jareth said.

“Right,” John said, “What?”

“Sometimes a deception is so audacious, so outrageous, that you cannot see it even when it is staring you in the face,” Jareth said.

“I know a thing or two about that,” Sarah said with an insincere smile.

“Oh for the love of God,” Jareth said, “Are you really going to throw a fit now? When all of London is at peril?”

“Now, why would I ever do that?” Sarah said. She tilted her head to the side. “I was merely commenting on a good trick. Isn’t that what you wanted? To be clever?”

“We can deal with this later,” Jareth said.

“And you will keep saying that until I am dead.”

“It doesn’t bloody well matter!”

Sarah stood in front of Jareth. “Of course it bloody well matters! I grieved for you! I had to watch the person I love most die by his own hand for God’s sake!”

“And I had to lie to you! Is that what you wanted me to say? I lied! I God damn bloody lied to save you!”

“I thought that was the one thing I did not have to worry about with you!”

“I cannot lie directly, but I can deceive which I used to my advantage. How can you fault me for that?”

“I can fault you for a lot of things. You hurt all of our friends and family. Mrs. Hudson had to lose a son all over again. Sherlock lost one of the few people to understand him. Lestrade lost his reputation and his friend. My family had to grieve the loss of someone they held dear. Molly had to keep your secret for two years when she could have eased all of our pain. Even Anderson lost his job because he was trying to show the truth! And by all that is good and holy, did you care at all what you did to your family? Do you really think they could do anything but survive after they lost you?”

“Just say that you’re hurt and be done with it!”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m hurt.”

“It has always mattered to me that you were hurt! I wanted to save you and take you away from that awful place you were in. You were ignored by your Father and neglected by your Mother. I couldn’t stand to see such a wonder loving person slowly dying inside! And then you had to go and throw away everything I offered you when I did try to save you!”

“I was a child, Jareth. I was safe where I was and I was frustrated. I didn’t need saving. Even if I did, I have always been more than capable of saving myself!”

Jareth looked around the empty apartment. “Well, that should make them leave us alone for some time.”

Sarah embraced Jareth. “God, that was awful. I hated having to do that fight again.”

Jareth kissed the top of her head. “Precious, thank you. Mycroft would have murdered me outright if something happened to Sherlock. Despite what Mycroft says, it would break his heart to lose Sherlock. I had to make sure he would not try to find the bomb with us.”

“You are not getting rid of me. Don’t even try it,” Sarah said.

“I never want to be away from you ever again,” Jareth said, “However, we do have business to discuss. I think I know what happened.”

Jareth led Sarah back over to the computer. “There were seven carriages that left Westminster but only six carriages arrived at St James’s Park.”

“He had the driver divert the train and then he detached the car,” Sarah asked, “But there is nothing between those stations.”

“Not on the maps, but when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. That carriage vanished, so it must be somewhere,” Jareth said.

“But why detach it in the first place?” Sarah said.

Jareth began to pace. “It vanished between St James’s Park and Westminster. Lord Moran vanished. John was kidnapped and nearly burned to death at a...” Jareth stopped. “What’s the date, Sarah? Today’s date?”

“The fifth of… are you serious?”

Jareth nodded. He looked at the wall of information. “Lord Moran is a peer of the realm. Normally he would sit in the House. Tonight there is an all-night sitting to vote on the new anti-terrorism Bill. But he won’t be there. Not tonight. Not the fifth of November.”

“Remember, remember, the fifth of November…” Sarah said.

“Gunpowder, treason and plot.”

“I see no reason…” 

“Why gunpowder, treason…”

“Should ever be forgot.” Sarah shook her head. “This is why you don’t celebrate failed terrorist attacks.”

“At least we don’t celebrate successful ones,” Jareth said, “Did the colonies really have to destroy all of that tea?”

&%&%&%

Sarah brought up Howard Shilcott on Skype. The three of them were pouring over all the maps they could find of the London Underground.

“There’s nothing down there, Mr. King, I told you. No sidings, no ghost stations,” Howard said.

“There has to be. Check again,” Jareth said.

Sarah rolled her neck before continuing her search. “This whole area is a big mess of old and new stuff. Charing Cross is made up of bits of older stations like Trafalgar Square, Strand...”

“No, it’s none of those. We’ve accounted for those,” Jareth said, “St. Margaret’s Street, Bridge Street, Sumatra Road, Parliament Street...”

“Hang on!” Howard said as he grabbed a book, “Hang on! Sumatra Road. You mentioned Sumatra Road, Mr. King. There is something. I knew it rang a bell. Where is it? There was a station down there.” 

“Well, why isn’t it on the maps?” Sarah said.

“Because it was closed before it ever opened,” Howard said.

“How does that work?” Sarah said.

Howard held up the book to the screen. “They built the platforms, even the staircases, but it all got tied up in legal disputes, so they never built the station on the surface.”

Jareth grinned. “It’s right underneath the Palace of Westminster.” He ran to grab his coat. 

“And there’s going to be a bomb down there?” Sarah said as she followed Jareth.

“It’s been done before!”

&%&%&%

Jareth and Sarah walked briskly through Westminster Station. 

“So it’s a bomb, then?” Sarah said, “Do you think they will pull a 7/7 or something more like 9/11?”

“It doesn’t matter. We will stop them before they can succeed,” Jareth said. He sent a text. “I informed Lestrade.”

“Are they evacuating Parliament?” Sarah asked.

“Not yet. Not enough time for that,” Jareth said.

Jareth took out a crowbar from his coat and forced open a locked gate. The two took out flashlights and began the long walk through tunnels and walkways. Except for some ladders, Jareth held Sarah’s hand the entire time.

“Hopefully there are no Cleaners here,” Sarah said.

“As long as you do not say ‘it’s a piece of cake’, we will be fine,” Jareth said.

They reached the platform of Sumatra Road Station. Jareth looked around the length of the track but there was no sight of a train.

“This does not make sense,” Jareth said.

“Could it be somewhere else?” Sarah asked.

“There’s nowhere else it could be. Oh!” Jareth said. He jumped off the platform onto the tracks.

“Whoa. Jareth. Aren’t those live?” Sarah said as she motioned to the rails.

“It is perfectly safe as long as we avoid touching the rails,” Jareth said. He helped Sarah down onto the tracks, “Come along Pond.”

Around the bend of the track was the missing car.

“You were right,” Sarah said.

“I generally am,” Jareth said. He stopped under a large open vent and pointed his flashlight up. “Sarah…”

“What?” Sarah asked as she looked up as well, “Damn. That’s a lot of demolition charges.”

Explosive devices were attached all around and up the ventilation shaft.

“It will go directly up into Parliament before spreading out. All of Westminster Palace will be destroyed if not more,” Jareth said.

“Even if they get everyone out of there, the debris could kill everyone in the most visited part of London and spread to other tunnels,” Sarah said. She squinted at the ceiling, “How is it set off though?”

They continued towards the car. Sarah checked underneath the carriage while Jareth checked the sides. After finding nothing on the outside, they cautiously entered the car. Sarah looked around the entire carriage when Jareth noticed something on the walls of the car.

“It’s empty,” Sarah said, “It doesn’t seem they have a Guy Fawkes or anything down here.”

“Precious,” Jareth said quietly, “I am afraid you are wrong.”

He pointed to a pair of intertwined black and red cables strung along the wall and down into one of the seats. Jareth lifted up the cushion and motioned for Sarah to point her light at what was underneath.

“This is the bomb,” Jareth said.

The two quickly removed several other cushions in the car, revealing wired explosives under all of them. 

“Someone has been watching too much _V for Vendetta_ ,” Sarah muttered.

Jareth knelt to the floor. He took off his gloves before removing a panel. “Now that is a proper bomb,” Jareth said.

Sarah knelt down across from Jareth. The main bomb was at least three feet long and appeared to be connected to all of the smaller bombs.

“We need bomb disposal,” Sarah said.

“They may not reach us in time,” Jareth said.

“So what do we do?” Sarah asked.

Jareth was quiet for a moment. “I have no idea.”

“You’ll think of something,” Sarah said reassuringly.

“I do not know anything about bombs beside that they go boom,” Jareth said.

“You know more than that,” Sarah said.

“You probably know more than I do,” Jareth said.

“I was a nurse,” Sarah said.

“Who worked in Black-Ops,” Jareth said.

“We never did major bomb disposal and I was rarely on missions directly,” Sarah said, “We can’t rip off the timer. That could set it off.”

“See, you know things!” Jareth said.

“No I don’t! Search your mind palace thing. You can quote obscure German poetry. Surely you know something about bombs,” Sarah said.

Jareth covered his eyes as he tried to think. “Nothing. I have nothing.”

All of the lights in the Tube car turned on along with the countdown clock which started at two minutes and thirty seconds.

“Oh dear God, no,” Sarah said, “Jareth!”

“I don’t know how!” Jareth said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You have two minutes and thirty seconds to defuse the bomb before you become a part of the London Underground forever. Such a pity.


	7. Chapter VI: Tock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/64080.html).

All of the lights in the Tube car turned on along with the countdown clock which started at two minutes and thirty seconds.

“Oh dear God, no,” Sarah said, “Jareth!”

“I don’t know how!” Jareth said.

Sarah huffed. “So you can’t switch the bomb off?”

Jareth looked back at the way they came. “Sarah, run.”

“There’s no point now! There’s not enough time to get away; if we don’t do this other people will die!”

Jareth looked at the bomb with utter despair. “I don’t know. I truly do not know.”

“You can do the impossible,” Sarah said.

Jareth looked up at Sarah. “I wish the goblins would come and take you away right now.”

Sarah closed her eyes and forced back tears. “That won’t work for so many reasons, Jareth.”

“I’m sorry,” Jareth said softly, “I just wanted you back. I thought everything would be the way it was when we could always save the day and… please, forgive me.”

Sarah tilted Jareth’s chin up, “Of course I forgive you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

She moved around the bomb and sat next to Jareth. “This is my choice to be with you. You are the best man I have ever known and I never wish to be parted from you ever again. I am so relieved to be here with you.”

Jareth held Sarah close to him. “I love you,” Jareth said.

“I love you,” Sarah said.

After a few seconds, a thought crossed Sarah’s mind.

“Oh, screw it,” Sarah said, pulling away from Jareth, “I am not waiting on you to save me. I am going to try to save us.” 

“What?” Jareth said.

Sarah knelt by the bomb. “There was no one supposed to be here.”

“Yes, and?”

“Well,” Sarah began carefully examining the bomb, “you can tell how committed someone is to a cause by how far they are willing to go. If the person is willing to die, they are willing to sacrifice everything for any cost. They believe that they cannot lose. Those who send out others to die are willing to pay for anything that is not what they consider important. Merciless, but effective. However, those who will not personally send those they consider on their side to die are going to have a back-up plan….” 

Sarah flipped a toggle switch. The numbers on the timer stopped ticking at thirty seconds. “… Like an off switch.”

“Are you sure it’s off?” Jareth asked, rubbing Sarah’s back.

Sarah shook her head. “Give me about twenty-five seconds, then we will know.”

Jareth pulled Sarah back and he held her tight to himself. 

They waited. 

They each counted silently to themselves the remaining time.

“I love you,” Jareth said.

Sarah squeezed Jareth’s arm. “I love you.”

They both closed their eyes at three seconds.

Two.

One.

&%&%&%

Sarah opened one eye. “Jareth?”

“Yes?”

“Are we dead?”

“I do not think so.”

“Are you sure?” Sarah said.

“If we were dead, it would either be much worse or much better. As it is, we are sitting in the London Underground, which is neither a good place nor a bad place.”

“It could be Purgatory,” Sarah said.

Jareth sniffed the air. “I think Purgatory would smell differently. A bit more of repentant souls.”

Sarah and Jareth both collapsed on the floor in relief. 

“I am so glad that it worked. I really did not want to die in a _V for Vendetta_ recreation,” Sarah said.

Jareth kissed Sarah’s neck before whispering into her ear, “Have I ever told you how intelligent, wonderful, and beautiful you are?”

“I am always glad to hear my good points again,” Sarah said, “Is this why knights go off to fight dragons? They want to have a nice snog for their efforts?”

Jareth laughed into the crook of Sarah’s neck and pressed several more kisses against whatever skin he could reach.

Sarah could see flashlights in the tunnels and the shouts of what sounded to be police officers. “Ah, the cavalry. I think it would be best if I didn’t try to stand up. I can’t feel my legs that well.”

Jareth snickered. “I had a thought.”

“Ah, finally. Hopefully this is a useful one.”

“I wanted to go out with a bang with you, but this was not what I meant by it.”

Sarah slapped Jareth’s back. “You’re such a pervert!”

“Oh, do you want me to bring up all of your ‘crystal ball’ references?”

They both began laughing in relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The song “Atlas” by Coldplay had the line “We’re about to explode” play when I started writing this chapter. That may or not be a good thing.


	8. Chapter VII: Thirteen Possibilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/64080.html).

Jareth sat on a sofa before a video camera. Sarah was by the doorway of the odd parlor Anderson kept. Anderson sat eagerly behind the camera. Jareth glanced at the wall of conspiracy behind Anderson before starting to tell his story.

_I hate these things. I better make this quick so I can get away from that infernal machine._

“The criminal network Moriarty headed was vast,” Jareth said, “Its roots were everywhere like a cancer, so Mycroft and my sister came up with a plan. They fed Moriarty information about me. Moriarty in turn gave hints – just hints – as to the extent of his web. They let him go because it was important to let him believe he had the upper hand. After they were certain that the Underground Courts would do nothing to stop Moriarty’s madness, I was informed of what the plan was. I agreed to sit back and watch Moriarty destroy my reputation bit by bit. I had to make him believe he’d beaten me, utterly defeated me, and then he’d show his hand.

“There were thirteen likely scenarios once we were up on that roof. Each of them were rigorously worked out and given a code name. It was not just my reputation that Moriarty needed to bury. I had to die.”

Jareth’s mind played over and over again what happened next. “But the one thing I did not anticipate was just how far James was prepared to go. I suppose that was obvious, given our first meeting at the swimming pool: his death wish. My kinsmen even pointed out that James Doyle was suicidal though they had never met him.

“After James… met his end, I knew I didn’t have long. I contacted Mycroft. One of the possibilities was called Lazarus. Once I sent that text, everyone got to work. A team was waiting on the ground. Save for those with Molly, they were to either inflate the airbag I would land on or they were to distract Sarah. By the time Sarah did arrive, like the heroine always does in the stories, Mycroft told me the plan was a go. 

“I knew that for the magic trick to work, Sarah had to not see things as they were. The ambulance station blocked her view of the airbag. Of course, she would do what I asked. She loved me. She would throw herself off the building to cushion my fall if she thought she could save me.

“I needed to hit the airbag… which I did. That was the second hardest part. My instincts were to transform into an owl. I nearly did, but I knew I had to fight it. I couldn’t fly like I wanted, but fall as Moriarty asked me.” Jareth adjusted his gloves before continuing.

“Speed was paramount. The airbag needed to be removed just as Sarah cleared the station. But we needed her to see a body. Molly, along with her helpers, shoved a body out of a window to where I would have fallen who was wearing the same clothes that I did. Like figures on a weather clock, we went one way and Sarah went the other. Then our well-timed cyclist put Sarah briefly out of action which gave me time to switch places with the corpse on the pavement. The rest was just window dressing. And one final touch... a squash ball under the armpit. Apply enough pressure and it momentarily cuts off the pulse.”

Turning away from the camera, Jareth looked at Sarah. “That was when the hardest part came. I had to watch Sarah try to save me. If I showed any signs of life, the trick would be ruined. Sarah would immediately be killed along with everyone else we held dear.”

Jareth turned back to the camera. “ Everything was anticipated; every eventuality allowed for. It worked… perfectly.” Jareth smirked.

“Molly? Molly Hooper? She was in on it?” Anderson said.

“Yes. You remember the little girl who was abducted by Moriarty?” Jareth said. “You assumed she reacted like that because I was her kidnapper. But I deduced Moriarty must have found someone who looked very like me to plant suspicion, and that that man – whoever he was – had to be got out of the way as soon as his usefulness ended. That meant there was a corpse in a morgue somewhere that looked just like me.”

Anderson nodded. “Clever.”

“Molly found the body and faked the records,” Jareth said.

“And what about the sniper aiming at Sarah? He might have had different orders than what Moriarty told you,” Anderson said.

“Mycroft’s men intervened before he could take the shot. He was invited to… reconsider,” Jareth said. His goblin grin was full of malice.

“And the homeless network?” Anderson asked.

“As I explained, the whole street was closed off… like a scene from a play,” Jareth said with a wave of his hand, “Neat, don’t you think?” Jareth narrowed his eyes at Anderson’s hesitation. “What?”

“Not the way I’d have done it,” Anderson said.

Jareth slouched onto the sofa with his normal arrogance. “Oh really?”

“No, I’m not saying it’s not clever, but... bit... disappointed,” Anderson said.

“Everyone is a critic,” Jareth said with a sigh, “Anyway, that is not why I came.”

“No?” Anderson asked.

“No. I think you know why I’m here, Phillip. _How I Did It_ by Jack the Ripper,” Jareth said with a huff of disdain.

Anderson looked down for a moment before asking, “Didn’t you think it was intriguing?”

Jareth stood up. “Lurid. A case so sensational, you hoped I’d be interested. But you overdid it, Phillip – you and your little ‘fan club’.”

“I did warn you about crazy fans,” Sarah said, “I just never figured Anderson to be one of them.”

Jareth paced around Anderson.

Phillip said, “I just couldn’t live with myself, knowing that I’d driven you to...”

“But you didn’t. You were always right. I wasn’t dead,” Jareth said.

Anderson looked relieved. “No. No, and everything is okay now, isn’t it?”

“Except for the facts that you have wasted police time, perverted the course of justice, risked distracting me from a massive terrorist assault that could have both destroyed Parliament and caused the death of hundreds of people, yes everything is okay now,” Jareth said.

Anderson began to cry and grabbed onto Jareth’s coat. “Oh, God. Oh, God, I’m sorry, Jareth. I’m so sorry.”

Jareth looked up to Sarah in distress before he patted Anderson on the shoulder. 

Phillip abruptly stopped crying and turned to his wall of conspiracy. “Hang on. That doesn’t make sense.” He moved to the wall. “How could you be sure Sarah would stand on that exact spot? I mean, what if she’d moved? How did you do it all so quickly? What if the bike hadn’t hit her? And anyway, why are you telling me all this?” Anderson chuckled. “If you’d pulled that off, I’m the last person you’d tell the truth...”

Sarah and Jareth had already left.

&%&%&%

“Are you ever going to tell me how you did it?” Sarah asked as the two of them took a cab back to Baker Street.

Jareth nuzzled his face against Sarah’s neck. “Are you saying what I told Anderson was a lie?”

“No. I think you told him a clever story that may or not be true,” Sarah said. She made Jareth face her. “You said it was one of the possibilities, not that it was what actually happened.”

Jareth smiled. “You see things for what they are. You know my methods. I leave you to your deductions.”

“I just need one possibility crossed out,” Sarah said.

“And what is that?” Jareth asked.

“You didn’t go traveling with the Doctor without me, did you?” Sarah said.

Jareth laughed and kissed Sarah. “I would never go on such an adventure without you.”

&%&%&%

A group of reporters and photographers were waiting outside of 221 Baker Street. Sarah and Jareth sat with John, Mary, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, and the band in the living room of 221B as they drank sparkling grape juice. Sherlock practically skipped into the room.

“Nothing like the sound of your brother being tortured by musicals to brighten the fact you were excluded from finding a bomb,” Sherlock said.

“I am sorry Sherlock, but your brother can make my life far more miserable than you can,” Jareth said.

Mrs. Hudson patted Mary’s arm. “Have you set a date?”

“We thought May,” Mary said.

“Oh! Spring wedding!” Mrs. Hudson said.

“Can we be the band?” Toby asked.

“Toby! Rude!” Sarah said.

“We haven’t gotten that far,” Mary said.

“I am so happy for you Mary,” Sarah said, “And John, you are blessed to be accepted by Mary. Always remember that.”

“I always will,” John said as he smiled at his fiancée. 

“He is a blessing I never expected,” Mary said.

“Well, I can’t wait,” Lestrade said as he raised his glass.

“Are you going to be there, Sherlock?” Mary asked.

“Weddings… not really my thing,” Sherlock said. He winked at Mary and smiled.

Molly opened the door to 221B. “Hello, everyone!”

The group greeted Molly.

“This is Tom,” Molly said as she led in her fiancé, “Tom, this is everyone.”

“Hi,” Tom said.

Jareth almost choked on his drink; Sarah patted Jareth’s back. Tom looked almost exactly like Sherlock. His hair was shorter and he had slightly different facial features. Tom wore a dark coat with the collar turned up and a scarf. Sherlock was quite confused.

“It’s really nice to meet you all,” Tom said.

John stood up and introduced himself. “Wow. Yeah, hi. I’m John.”

“Is that dude a clone of that other dude?” the drummer whispered to Toby.

Tom made his way around the group. Jareth pulled himself together. “I am Jareth King. Molly Hooper is one of the best people I have ever met. If you hurt her, I will make sure they never find your body.”

“I would never do that,” Tom said with true sincerity. 

“Good,” Jareth said, “We should go deal with the news hounds, Sarah.”

“Of course,” Sarah said, “It’s nice to see you again, Tom.”

“Nice to see you again, Sarah,” Tom said.

Jareth watched the quiet and tense meeting between Sherlock and Tom as he grabbed his coat. He then closed the door behind Sarah and made it down the stairs to 221A before he began laughing.

“You knew!” Jareth said.

“I did,” Sarah said.

“And…” Jareth was laughing too hard to continue his sentence.

“Why is it so funny?” Sarah said.

“Molly has a very specific type,” Jareth snickered.

“You do too,” Sarah said.

Jareth calmed down enough to put on his coat. “No I don’t.”

“Brunettes with dominant personalities,” Sarah said. She pulled Jareth by the lapels of his coat so he would be close to her. “You forget, I have talked with your allies and your entire family. You, sir, have quite the weakness. I wouldn’t laugh too hard at Molly for liking tall, dark men with good bone structure.”

Jareth trapped Sarah against the wall. “Oh, so you have the dominant personality of the two of us?”

“I never said you were not dominant,” Sarah said, brushing her lips against his as she spoke. “What I am saying is that my will is as strong as yours.”

“I will agree to that.” Jareth pulled Sarah closer before kissing her thoroughly. 

Sarah pulled away to breathe and shifted so she could rest her head against Jareth’s chest. Jareth tightened his grip.

“A couple of months after you died, I couldn’t go to your grave. I went to Russel Square because that is where Mike told me about you and it was the place we had the picnic. I sat and talked for a while. I asked you for one more unreasonable expectation. I asked you… not to be dead.”

Jareth spoke quietly. “I know. I was there. I heard you.”

Sarah held back tears. “Thank you.”

“Always for you, Sarah,” Jareth said. He tilted Sarah’s head up. “Don’t cry. I don’t want you to cry because of me anymore.”

“Even if it is happy tears?” Sarah said.

Jareth smiled and kissed Sarah’s forehead. He moved away and grabbed a specific hat from the coat rack. 

“There. I am wearing the fedora. I look properly ridiculous,” Jareth said.

Sarah laughed. “I am sure the press will love it.”

Jareth fussed with the hat while looking in the mirror. “There is one thing that is troublesome to me about this case.”

“Why did they go after John,” Sarah said.

“I don’t know why. I don’t like not knowing,” Jareth said, “Unlike the nicely embellished fictions on your blog, real life is rarely so neat. I will find out who is behind this.”

Sarah stood behind Jareth and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You look great. Stop pretending that you’re not enjoying this.”

“Enjoying what?” Jareth asked.

“Being back. Being a hero again.”

“I am not a hero,” Jareth said.

“You definitely are. A very sexy one at that,” Sarah said.

Jareth took a deep breath. “Once more unto the breach…. You don’t have to come.”

“I don’t want you to go deducing which reporter is having an affair while in front of a bunch of other reporters,” Sarah said, “Besides, I would do a lot more to protect you.”

Jareth turned around and kissed Sarah’s hands. “My Champion.”

“My hero,” Sarah said. She opened the door for Jareth and let him stand in front of the reporters while she stood to the side, watching the crowd for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: One last chapter…
> 
> If you have not seen this fan video of The Fall as described by _The Prestige_ , go watch it now. It is my favorite video about the Fall and really helped me write this story. Plus, unintentional David Bowie/Sherlock crossover for the win!


	9. Chapter VIII: Someone True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/64080.html).

It was the night before New Year’s, and all through 221B, Sherlock’s sneezing was disturbing even the not-your-housekeeper-landlady. Sherlock was bundled up by the fireplace with care. Mrs. Hudson was about to take her “herbal soothers” which were not shady. Jareth was resting his head on the lap of his lady fair. _Iron Man 3_ played to make New Year’s Eve a happy affair.

Sherlock blew his nose into his monogrammed handkerchief. “Is it New Year yet?”

“No,” Jareth and Sarah said at the same time.

“I need to go to bed but I want to stay up,” Sherlock said. He sniffled.

“The New Year will greet you when you wake up in the morning,” Sarah said, “I’ll even save my poppers for when you wake up, okay Sherlock?”

Sherlock nodded. “Okay. Can we have some more of that spicy soup you made today then?”

“I will do my best,” Sarah said.

“Night,” Sherlock said before making his way to 221C.

“If it is alright with you two, I think I will turn in as well. My hip is acting up and it gets better when I sleep,” Mrs. Hudson said.

“Of course,” Jareth said, “Good night, Mrs. Hudson.”

After Mrs. Hudson had left, Jareth sat up and pulled Sarah onto his lap. He placed his hands on her hips to keep her close. “I wouldn’t mind starting that New Year’s kiss now.”

“But midnight is two hours away,” Sarah teased. She lightly pressed her lips against Jareth’s. “It would have to be a very long kiss. Do you think you have the stamina?”

“Oh, definitely. I would certainly make it a good one,” Jareth said.

A familiar female voice said, “Unholy demons, I think I am going to vomit.”

Sarah would have fallen off the sofa if Jareth had not been holding onto her so tightly. She turned her head and saw Joanna sitting in Jareth’s chair. The Seelie Queen looked weary. Some of the red of Joanna’s dress did not appear to be from dye.

“Are you alright, Joanna?” Jareth asked.

Joanna nodded. “Yes. The children are safe. Rumpelstiltskin is at the High Court. Oberon is dead.”

Jareth pulled Sarah to her feet. “You won, kinsman?”

“We didn’t lose,” Joanna said, “Please, come with me. We cannot discuss this here.”

Sarah followed Joanna and Jareth through the mirror.

&%&%&%

The trip this time was uneventful. The three of them landed on their feet in the private meeting quarters of the High Court. Rumpelstiltskin was signing papers and talking with representatives of other Courts.

“Leave us,” Rumpelstiltskin said when he saw that Joanna had arrived back.

The representatives bowed and left. Rumpelstiltskin stood up to take Joanna’s hand. He wearily waved his hand to Jareth and Sarah. “Welcome to the High Court.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said, unsure of what else to do.

Rumpelstiltskin came over to Jareth and gave him a tight hug. “I am so happy you are alive, kinsman.”

“Air,” Jareth squeaked.

Rumpelstiltskin released Jareth and then ruffled the younger man’s hair. Jareth made a face.

“Just because you are a mess doesn’t mean I have to be one,” Jareth said.

“Trust me; it did not make much difference to that bird’s nest you claim to be a hairstyle,” Rumpelstiltskin said, “Please, sit.”

Jareth held Sarah’s hand after they sat down. He said, “You are not High King, kinsman. Why? Oberon is dead.”

Rumpelstiltskin pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before looking up to Jareth. “After Wilheard broke the geis, Oberon became… unstable. Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator. Oberon no longer had the second so the first devoured him. He did not care how the war went as long as there was destruction, so the responsibilities of ruling and of war fell to Titania. She is not experienced in warfare and many of the generals they had were already… ineffectual. It was only a matter of time for them to lose.”

“Which is why we are sitting in the High Court. What happened?” Jareth said.

“Oberon was killed and…”

“Who killed him?” Jareth said, “It was not you or you would have said so.”

Rumpelstiltskin rubbed his eyes. “It was… Titania.”

Jareth was too stunned to speak.

“We were in our last battle,” Rumpelstiltskin said, “Oberon wanted to have a fight to the death. Titania… as I said, love is a much more vicious motivator…”

“Oh my God. She’s pregnant,” Sarah said.

“How did you know?” Joanna asked.

“What?” Jareth said.

“Joanna said once that she would kill her own husband to protect her children,” Sarah said, “Titania is probably the same. It’s the only reason I can think of for your family to spare her since they have all been protectors of children. That’s why you neither won nor loss. Oberon and Wilheard are dead but Titania is carrying Oberon’s heir.”

Rumpelstiltskin gave a small smile. “Clever girl.”

Jareth rested his head against the table. “I don’t… why would you… how did she… what now?”

“Now, we wait,” Rumpelstiltskin said, “Titania has agreed to sign for Mab, Joanna, and myself to be regents and guardians until the child is thirty if… if Titania is permitted to see Sarah Williams.”

“NOT A CHANCE IN HELL!” Jareth said. He jumped from his seat and tried to make Sarah stand. “We are leaving!”

“Jay,” Joanna said calmly.

“Do not dare treat me as a child Joanna!” Jareth said.

“You are acting like one,” Sarah said.

Jareth huffed. “She will kill you!”

“Sarah will not be alone,” Joanna said, “I have been permitted to come with her.”

“No,” Jareth said.

“Jareth,” Sarah said as she stood. She grabbed his wrist. “Jareth, I know your fears. I acknowledge them. But… I have enough deaths on my conscience. This child will not be one of them. Joanna will keep me safe.”

“You are not going,” Jareth said.

Sarah turned to Rumpelstiltskin. “Is there a place for Jareth and I to talk?”

Before Sarah took another breath, she found herself and Jareth in what was her room during Moriarty’s trial. Jareth began kissing Sarah.

“Not going to work,” Sarah said before gasping when he nipped at her neck.

“I would disagree,” Jareth said.

Sarah tugged at Jareth’s hair to make him look at her. “Jareth, are you worried that Joanna will not be able to protect me?”

Jareth did not respond until Sarah poked him in the ribs. “Yes.”

Sarah smiled slightly. “You care for me so much and I am so grateful for that. But Jareth, this is no different than going to find a bomb in the London Underground or getting shot at by smugglers.”

“It is different,” Jareth said.

“Why?” Sarah asked.

“I am not there with you,” Jareth said.

Sarah kissed Jareth’s cheek. “Who called the goblins when you were going to take the cabbie’s pill?”

“Please, Sarah…”

She kissed his other cheek. “Saved you from getting shot by smugglers?”

“Precious…”

She kissed his mouth. “Disarmed a bomb?”

“Sarah…”

“Jareth…” Sarah placed his hand over her heart. “Do you feel that? Can you feel how scared I am? Do you think I want this?”

He rested his forehead against hers. “Don’t.”

“The Underground is in a power vacuum. Titania signing over to the Seelie and Unseelie Courts will bring stability. A child who has done nothing will not be killed for power. More importantly, stability will give all of us the chance to be safer from the power grabs Titania will attempt.”

“I want you to be safe.”

“If you want that, you will have to let me do this.”

&%&%&%

Joanna walked with Sarah to the High Queen’s garden with Jareth following a few steps behind. The vines that covered the palace were withered by the cold weather.

“You are going to see Titania in that?” Joanna asked, pointing to Sarah’s pajamas.

“I am under the impression that time is of the essence,” Sarah said.

The two women paused outside of the doors that they had passed through two years before under different circumstances. Jareth began to pace.

“Jareth loves you,” Joanna said, “I will not let any harm befall you.”

“I know you won’t,” Sarah said, “I am sorry for the things I said to you.”

“Oh, Sarah, I owe you a thousand apologies for what happened. I ask for your forgiveness,” Joanna said.

“You are forgiven,” Sarah said.

“As are you,” Joanna said, “If it makes you feel any better, you were right.”

“About what?” Sarah asked.

“Jareth would have let the Gremlin King kill him if it meant saving my children.”

&%&%&%

The two women entered a garden barren from winter. Titania sat in a snow covered pavilion while wearing a black cloak trimmed with white. The cloak covered most of her blood stained dress. The night was without wind and was far too quiet. Joanna and Sarah stopped just outside of the gazebo.

The High Queen did not look up. “What is covering your feet?” Titania asked.

Sarah looked down and realized what her footwear was. “Um… they are Killer Rabbit slippers.”

“That is from… a picture show, is it not?” Titania said.

“Yes,” Sarah said. She rubbed her arms. “What is it you wish to speak with me about?”

“Did I call for you?” Titania said. She looked to the side. “That seemed so long ago. I thought they had forgotten.”

“We did not,” Joanna said.

“I was not speaking to you, miller’s daughter,” Titania said, “You are here because I know that you will not kill me unless I do something rash, unlike your brother.”

Sarah entered the pavilion. She brushed off a seat across from Titania with her flannel sleeve before sitting down. “What do you want from me?”

“Many things,” Titania said, “I must ask this first; did he suffer?”

Sarah closed her eyes before answering. “Yes.”

“But not for long?” Titania said.

“Time is relative,” Sarah said.

Titania looked over at Sarah. “Why did you do it so… thoroughly?”

“Because I was angry and vengeful. It was wrong,” Sarah said, “I apologize for the extent of what I did.”

“But not the death?” Titania said.

“Beyond that I am not the one who should have done it, no,” Sarah said.

Titania sighed. “Well, I should thank you for what you did.”

Sarah blinked several times. “I am sorry. Can you please repeat that?”

“I should thank you,” Titania said, “If any of the Goblin Kingdom had gotten to him, they would have done it much slower. My son was an idiot to agree to a geis with a Labyrinth Champion. Wordplay is part of winning the challenge.”

Sarah shook her head. “I think the cold is getting to me.”

“Do not misunderstand me,” Titania said, “I do hate you for killing my son. Your death would be rather pleasant for me. However… I have no plans to kill you or your goblin.”

Sarah sat with Titania in silence.

“I have a request,” Titania said.

“I will have to hear it before I agree to it,” Sarah said.

Titania smiled. “Clever girl. I request that you speak with the rulers of the Courts to allow me to spend at least some time with my child after she is born.”

“You are not even showing. How do you know the child is a girl?” Sarah said.

“It is just a guess, but Fae are often right about such things,” Titania said, “Do you agree?”

“I will ask,” Sarah said.

Titania turned her attentions to Joanna. “A year and a day.”

“For what?” Sarah asked.

“Agreed,” Joanna said.

“For what?” Sarah repeated.

“Leave me,” Titania said, “I am done with you for now.”

&%&%&%

Jareth was still waiting outside of the garden doors. He kissed Sarah deeply and rubbed her back. 

“You’re cold, precious,” he whispered.

“It is chilly out,” Sarah said, “But I’m fine. See?”

“Of course you are,” Jareth said.

“Kinsman!” Dante shouted from down the hall. 

He ran up to his uncle and hugged him. “I am so glad to see you!”

Jareth patted his nephew on the shoulder. “I am glad as well.”

“How did you do it?” Dante asked.

“You already know,” Jareth said, “Things are not always what they seem.”

&%&%&%

Within a half hour, Queen Mab, Joanna, Rumpelstiltskin, Dante, Christiana, Jareth, and Sarah sat in a private meeting room. Everyone who had been in the war looked like they had not yet changed clothes from battle. Sarah told the group about Titania’s request.

“Once the child is weaned, they will have no contact. How long do you suppose it will take to make this contract, Seelie King?” Mab asked.

“I am already working on the rough draft,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“What are we to do until then? We did just have the High King killed,” Dante said.

“Everyone who sided with Oberon will be at home” Joanna said, “They will not trouble us. They will regroup and try to recover their losses, including Titania.”

“For how long though?” Christiana said.

The group became silent.

Joanna said, “Write faster.”

Mab glanced over at Jareth. “How was the afterlife?”

“Duller than this meeting,” Jareth said.

Mab sighed and picked at the blood that had dried in her hair. “Why is he here, Seelie King?”

“I may be considered odd for this, but when the dead rise from the grave, I am interested to see how much decomposition has happened,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

Sarah giggled for a moment before covering her mouth. “Sorry. I was reminded of a Beethoven composition/decomposition joke.”

Jareth smirked. “I think one of your sisters told me that one.”

“They do love puns,” Sarah said, “Sorry, continue.”

Joanna smiled at the couple. “Do you love him, Sarah?”

“Of course,” Sarah said.

Joanna focused on Jareth. “What would you do to be married to her?”

“Much,” Jareth said.

“Could you go without magic for a year and a day?” Joanna said.

“Yes,” Jareth said without a moment of hesitation.

“Titania is willing to let the two of you marry if you do that and do not claim the Goblin Kingdom in that time, Jareth,” Joanna said.

“Done,” Jareth said just as quickly as before.

Christiana raised an eyebrow at her Mother. “How long have you been working on this?”

“Shortly after the Dartmoor incident,” Joanna said, “But that is neither here nor there. You two would not mind a quick ceremony, would you?”

“Oh, a wedding. How festive for the day of a regicide,” Mab said dryly.

“I think they have been patient long enough, Mab,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“Wait,” Sarah said.

Everyone looked at Sarah in surprise at her hesitation.

“Can I please have something besides purple flannel to get married in?” Sarah said.

&%&%&%

After Jareth left Sarah in the care of Dante and Christiana, Jareth’s kinsmen led Sarah to a powder room only a few yards away from the meeting room. Christiana began brushing out Sarah’s hair.

Dante held up a simple white dress with long flowing sleeves. “I can adjust it once you put it on. Sorry. Short notice and my powers are rather drained today.”

“That is alright Dante. This is all I need,” Sarah said. She pulled the dress over her flannel pajamas. “Much better. I am good to go.”

“Not a chance,” Dante said in growing horror, “Far too frumpy.” He began writing notes on the walls in pencil.

“What is Dante writing?” Sarah asked Christiana.

Christiana twisted Sarah’s hair around her hand, leaving large curls behind. “Magic is sometime more like a mathematical formula than a performance depending on how much magic is needed and how much knowledge and power the person has. Dante is physically changing the structure of something instead of bringing it from elsewhere. I am essentially hair styling supplies from my room back at the castle while at the same time curling your hair using curling iron’s heat. Essentially. It is more complicated than that.” She began pinning the large curls up.

“It makes wonderful results,” Sarah said, “You two create beautiful works.”

“That they do,” Joanna said as she entered the room, hiding something behind her back, “Jareth asked me to find certain flowers for you. Red roses for true love. Light pink roses for the joy of life. A purple lilac for the first emotion of love. And one other, which was the only flower request I could find as the gardens are in disrepair.”

Joanna held out the bouquet, causing Sarah to laugh. 

“Peach blossoms. It always comes back to the peaches,” Sarah said.

“For bridal hope,” Christiana said.

Sarah smiled as she smelled the bunch. “How very true.”

&%&%&%

Sarah heard Jareth before she saw him in the meeting room. His back was to the door as he spoke with Rumpelstiltskin. “I am not nervous. I am anticipatory.”

“All I said was that you look like you could use a drink,” Rumpelstiltskin said. He saw Sarah enter the room and smiled. 

Jareth shook his head. “Anyway, why would I be nervous? I am marrying Sarah. That is all I have wanted. I am not nervous.”

“I am,” Sarah said, “And I am anticipatory as well.”

Jareth spun around and looked awestruck. Then he gave a wide smile that made Sarah smile back. He held out his gloved hand; Sarah took it and was pulled into an embrace.

“You are more beautiful than I ever dreamed my bride would be, precious,” Jareth whispered before kissing Sarah’s cheek.

“And you far more handsome than I imagined any fairytale hero could be,” Sarah said, “I don’t have to go and achieve three tasks to marry you, do I? I don’t mind, but I would rather not ruin your nephew’s work.”

Jareth shook his head. “We take vows and we are married. No tasks. No tricks. The two of us and our vows.” Jareth pulled back from Sarah and kissed her briefly on the lips.

“The kissing comes after the vows,” Joanna teased.

“I do believe we have other things to attend to after this ceremony,” Mab said.

Rumpelstiltskin made a long blue sash appear in his hands. “Face each other and hold the other’s wrists. Repeat as one as I command you to do.”

They did so.

“You will respect the laws of the High Court. You will do right to all. You will protect each other. You will honor each other. You will be one.”

“We will respect the laws of the High Court. We will do right to all. We will protect each other. We will honor each other. We will be one.”

As they said the words, Rumpelstiltskin wrapped and tied the blue sash around their wrists. “Quietly, to each other only, say your true names.”

“Sarah Jane Williams.”

“Jareth Miller.”

“Now,” Rumpelstiltskin said, “you may kiss your new spouse, to make a true binding which this cloth merely symbolizes.”

Jareth kissed Sarah tenderly before pulling away. They both grinned

“And you two are wed with the High Court’s blessing. No one in any of the Courts may deny the truth of this marriage,” Rumpelstiltskin said as he untied the sash, “Welcome to the family, Sarah.”

&%&%&%

After well-wishes and good-byes, Jareth and Sarah were sent back to 221B Baker Street. The bells in London began to ring in the New Year.

“Happy New Year, precious,” Jareth said.

Sarah replied, “Happy New Year, husband.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: “A wedding? I love weddings! Drinks all around!” as good old Captain Jack Sparrow would say.
> 
> I did own Killer Rabbit slippers at one point and they were wonderfully warm and fluffy, but not very durable. I could not find a way to fit the bitterness line in “A Study in Glitter” so I put it here.
> 
> Thank you for reading! The next story will be “Two Weddings and a Murder?” A.K.A. “The Sign of Three”.


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